The One True Queen
by VeryShy
Summary: Just a Season's Greeting to everyone and a promise I'll finish the story... Maybe the legend had it wrong; maybe there was no love triangle between the queen, a knight and the king... Maybe because there was another person who stole the Prince's heart. A Queen fit for the great King. Arthur/OC Chapter 41 is up.
1. Chapter 1: A sealed heart

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from the Arthurian Legend or from the BBC TV Show Merlin. Only the plot and the other fictional characters belong to me.

Thanks to my wonderful beta reader Krause. Any remaining grammar errors are mine and mine alone :-)

* * *

_**1. A sealed heart**_

Merlin was watching Arthur train with the knights with a heavy heart. By now, he could tell how the day was going to be by simply observing Arthur's behavior in the training field.

Most days were like today: the prince unloading his bottled up pain and fury on his blows. He had become a force to be reckoned with. He had always been one of the best warriors. Now, with his ongoing dark mood, he was simply formidable.

It had been more than two years since Lancelot's and Gwen's wedding. And for someone who actually pushed them to it, the Prince did not seem happy at all.

After the dragon's attack and Morgana's disappearance, things had taken a turn for the worst in the kingdom. The peace treaty started to fall apart, Cedrec's forces permanently challenged Camelot's borders and Arthur and Merlin spent more time in the battlefields than in the City.

And it was there, in a desperate situation fighting Cedrec's unyielding forces, that the once aspiring knight had made his appearance again. Lancelot's timing had not only been perfect but a decisive tilting point in the battle.

Camelot's knights had finally defeated the enemy and in the night camp, exhausted and wounded, Arthur took the most difficult decision of his life. Merlin would remember that night forever; his own heart torn apart because of the ill-fated amorous triangle that involved three of his dearest friends.

_Arthur had called for Lancelot and they had spoken for a long time and at that moment Merlin thought that the conversation had only involved knighthood._

_When it was over, however, Arthur asked to be left alone._

_Lancelot had come to Merlin with a strange expression on his face. A sad, uncomfortable smile was his only greeting before he sat next to him. They remained in silence for a long time until Lancelot spoke:_

_"Arthur asked me to come back to Camelot with him"_

_Merlin was cautiously excited. On one hand, he cared for his friend immensely. On the other, he was also aware that the young warrior harvested deep feelings for Gwen too and that, worst of all, they were somehow reciprocated._

_He probed carefully, "That is excellent news, isn't it?"_

_Lancelot turned sad eyes towards him this time and let out "And he wants me to court Gwen."_

_Merlin winced at the words. In spite of how much he liked Lancelot, he knew what that renouncement had meant for the Prince. His face spoke volumes of the anguish he felt._

_"Yeah. That's what I thought"; the pain in Lancelot's voice also more than evident._

_Merlin looked as his friend ashamedly. "That was not what I…"_

_But Lancelot cut him lifting his hand. "I know Merlin. I know…"_

_Another long silence. The fire was dying slowly in the pit._

_"And what are you going to do?"_

_Lancelot got up sighing. "I really do not know…" and left to the darker side of the camp._

_Merlin didn't sleep that night. He was worried about Arthur. The Prince had not call for him nor asked for anything. He had been in his tent the entire night and the warlock could not even fathom what was going through his master's head._

_The young wizard also worried about Lancelot. The warrior had proven once again being a formidable knight and a trusted friend. Someone who Camelot would need if it ever was to be the cradle of Albion._

_He knew without doubt that both Arthur and Lancelot trusted each other with their lives. Of that, Merlin was absolutely certain. However, there was the love of a woman between both men. A woman who was the most caring, honest and good person he had ever known. And she was also torn between them._

_He sighed and moved in his bedroll looking at the stars. Why was it that the making of a great kingdom demanded so much heartache not only from him, but also from the people he truly cared about?_

_He wished he were back in Ealdor when he was young and none of this had happened._

_In the middle of his musing, Arthur walked out of his tent. The Prince had an unreadable expression in his face._

_"I need to speak with you" It sounded more like a request than an order, and Merlin shrugged inside._

_Inside the tent, and without further ado, Arthur communicated "I have asked Lancelot to go back to Camelot with us. I intend to grant him the knighthood he deserves. Camelot needs more men like him."_

_"That is wise…" Merlin started but the Prince interrupted looking straight at him._

_"And I asked him to court Gwen."_

_There. It was out and now Merlin truly was out of words._

_Arthur's eyes turned back straight upfront, his shoulders tightening._

_"You are not saying anything."_

_Merlin shook his head… "What do you want me to say?"_

_Arthur's biting sarcasm –the shield Merlin had learnt it was always at hand for the Prince when something was truly hurting him—made its comeback: "Oh… I do not know… You always have an opinion about pretty much everything!" He looked back at his manservant with a raised eyebrow._

_Merlin sighed. This was going to be difficult._

_"Well, Sire, this time I truly do not."_

_Arthur looked at his boots, his shoulders dropping in defeat._

_There was a silence that might have felt longer than it actually was, before Merlin decided to speak again. "But I do have a question: Do you realize the implications of what you have asked of him?"_

_The prince kept playing for a moment with some pebbles on the floor and Merlin thought he was not going to answer. But he did._

_"Yes. I do. But it is the only way."_

_"But what about things changing when you are King? What about your feelings?"_

_Arthur stopped him sharply._

_"My feelings are of no consequence here Merlin!" He drew his hand through his hair and sighed heavily; almost angrily. "Look around you! We are at war! We have been at war for a long time and I don't even know how much longer we will be!"_

_The dam had broken and the Prince was speaking, finally. Merlin only listened._

_"I cannot ask Gwen to wait for something we don't even know it would ever happen…" he started pacing the tent like a caged beast. "And in the meantime, robbing her of the possibility of having a husband and a family."_

_"My duty" he stopped pacing "first and foremost is with Camelot. If I died serving my kingdom…" he paused as if the words were too painful to pronounce, "what would be of my promise to her… "_

_The truth came crashing down on the warlock. Arthur was sacrificing his own happiness for Gwen's. A mixture of admiration and pride surged through the wizard._

_Yes, this was definitely the future king he was supposed to serve._

_Still, he felt he needed to play devil's advocate; if for no other reason to help Arthur reassure his decision._

_"Lancelot can also die…"_

_Arthur sat in his cot, tired. "I know."_

_There was another silence and Merlin once again thought that the conversation had ended. But the prince continued. "However, while he is alive, he can love her freely and make her happy... " and with all the pain in the world he added "and that I cannot."_

_Merlin swallowed. It seemed that his master had thought his affair throughout. Before he could add anything Arthur spoke again so softly that the wizard had to strain his ears to listen._

_"She deserves a man who not only can protect her but who can put her before everything else in this world… A man who can love her in the open and without reservations… And I can't be that man."_

_He looked at his friend and confidant with sad and determined eyes._

_"If I do not set her free, it will kill us both…"_

_And with those words the Prince and future king of Camelot had sealed his heart._

Sir Leon came out of the field rubbing his shoulder with a pained expression and brought Merlin out of his reverie.

"He's in one of his moods, I see."

The knight glanced back at the prince—now mercilessly beating Sir Rodwyan—and nodded.

"Yes. He's wearing everyone down."

Merlin sighed. His day was not going to be much easier. He was thankful, nonetheless, that a great portion of the prince's winded up stamina had been absorbed by the knights during the vigorous morning exercises rather than reserved for him.

Even though his relationship with the prince had progressed to the point of an unreserved friendship, Arthur's gloomy demeanor usually ended up getting the best out of the young warlock.

And when that happened, an argument always ensued. Gaius used to say that they bickered like two old wives in a kitchen.

With everything that was taking place, Merlin seriously wondered how this kingdom was supposed to be the foundation of Albion and Arthur its mastermind. And as if things were not bad enough, the King had summoned his son that morning. In Merlin's experience, that usually meant bad news.


	2. Chapter 2: An ill fated union

SAME DISCLAIMER AS CHAPTER 1

* * *

_**2. An ill-fated union**_

Merlin walked into the Prince's chambers later in the day. He had purposely excused himself from the earlier meeting with the King. In any event, Arthur would likely share—eventually—what had transpired.

Maybe it had to do with the envoys of that foreign realm that had arrived the night before. Whatever the case, he preferred not to be in the middle lest father and son decided—as it was occurring more often that not—to disagree on the issue they were discussing.

As of late, and perhaps due to the perils of the raging wars, King Uther had been becoming increasingly obsessed about magic, many times bordering in plain paranoia. That fact, coupled with Arthur's consuetudinary dark mood, usually created a very volatile mix that Merlin would rather not see exploding whenever it could be helped.

"Haven't we talked enough about knocking?" Arthur's voice was low. Bad sign.

"I did not know you were going to be here so soon. A short meeting with the King I supposed?"

A disgusted sneer marred Arthur's handsome features. "You can say that."

Merlin busied himself with the clothes. He knew it was better to wait for Arthur to disclose than to inquire. Particularly when the Prince was carefully observing his favorite sword.

Patience finally paid off and Arthur stopped what he was doing and got up.

"My father…" he started with the mockingly ceremonial tone he used in these cases, "has decided that I, Prince Arthur of Camelot, am of age to be married."

Merlin turned in surprise, but the prince wasn't done yet.

"And" he emphasized, "he has found the perfect match!"

Merlin sat down, dumbfounded. This was going to be a major nightmare. He just knew it. Of all the insensitive things he had seen Uther do to his son, this could certainly take the pinnacle.

Although Arthur was expecting some reaction from his manservant, Merlin sitting down was possibly not the one. He arched one eyebrow amused.

"Please sit down, Merlin. I hope you are comfortable."

Merlin didn't mind his sarcasm. He was truly worried.

"What are you going to do?"

"_Not_ marry, of course! I am a happy bachelor as it were!" the prince announced cynically.

Merlin decided to leave the discussion about the '_happy_' part for a better moment. Ever since Gwen's wedding, Arthur had been involved in an endless tirade of meaningless relationships with courtiers and pretty much everything that wore skirts.

And he wasn't even discreet about it. Most days the lady in question was still in Arthur's chambers when he arrived. And he was not an early riser.

He understood what the prince had been going through. And he figured that the King had decided to put an end to his son's indecorous affairs. But forcing Arthur to marry was the _best _idea Uther could come up with?

The warlock shook his head and sighed. "And how are you planning not marrying exactly?"

Arthur sat. "I haven't thought out that part yet. But something will come to me." He let out a cynical laugh. "After all we've been through I just can't believe he is still trying to control my life!"

"Oh… I don't think he tires that easily …" Merlin mused trying to lighten the mood but by the looks in Arthur's face, he wasn't succeeding.

"Okay… " He lifted his hands in sign of peace. "And… Who is the lucky lady?"

"I don't know. Some lady of Leonesse, Princess of some northern kingdom by the sea. The envoys came last night with a letter from their King." Arthur dismissed.

"Leonesse… Oh…Right!" Merlin remembered and pulled a letter from his pocket. "I almost forgot! This morning a visiting guard gave me this for you. He said he was from Leonesse and this was a personal note from his lady, not to be open or seen by anyone but you…"

Arthur grabbed the note with a suspicious glare. What could that be?

As he was reading, however, his face began to slowly distend to finally relax into an open smile.

"Ha! I told you something would come to me!" Arthur bragged. "Although… it is not _technically _my idea… Nevertheless, it did come to me strictly speaking."

The warlock did not understand a word of what his master was saying, not to mention that Arthur's mood had shifted from gloomy to upbeat in less than a minute.

Would he need to start worrying about his charge's mental health now too? His eyebrows lifted in question.

"And what came to you is…?" he encouraged the Prince to continue.

"It seems that Lady Gwynn is just as _appalled_ as I am about this arranged marriage, so she proposes a private meeting to…" Arthur looked back at the paper to quote the Princess verbatim, "…Coordinate our actions in order to best prevent what she thinks it could be an ill-fated union."

The Prince put the paper down, chuckling.

"I think I like her already!"

Merlin was now seriously suspecting a mental illness. It was not like Arthur to take rejection so well.

"And you like her because…" he moved his hands looking for words, "she does _not_ want to marry you?"

"Precisely!"

"I do not understand…"

"And that is a shocker..." Arthur smiled caustically but explained, "My father will be up for a big surprise. She is, after all, _his _choice of a perfect match for me." The last part was said with intense irony.

The warlock finally understood. It was back to the King trying to control his son's life and Arthur rebelling against it, then. Nothing good could come out of that.

The Prince walked out of the room wearing a self-satisfied smile and yelled back "We leave the day after tomorrow!"

* * *

Later that night, during dinner.

"I take it you have reconsider the situation." Uther addressed his son.

"Why would you think that father?"

Uther signaled Merlin to serve him more wine. "I did not expect you to dine with me tonight if you were still set in your ways"

Arthur nodded, also sipping from his glass. "Something like that, father."

Uther smiled in satisfaction and the Prince took advantage of the King's good mood to continue.

"I believe your proposal has its merits." He lied with an innocent smile. "But I would like some time to think about it."

The King found it reasonable. "Indeed. I only promised King Ruther an answer in a month time."

Arthur nodded and went on. "I decided to go on a hunting trip for a couple of days to clear my mind and think about this marriage. That is," he continued his charade of the perfect son "if you can part from my services."

Such a good disposition from the Prince was certainly something very hard to come by these days, so the King quickly accepted the deal.

"Of course. Do you know when you will be back?"

"I will depart the day after tomorrow and I expect to return in the fortnight."

"Granted. You will be taking some knights with you." It was not a question, but Arthur was prepared for that.

"I do not think it necessary, father. I will not endeavor far from Camelot, and some quiet time would help me. I need to be alone."

The King did not like the idea. "Nonsense. You are the crown prince; you cannot venture alone. Take your servant with you at least."

Arthur threw Merlin an impishly triumphant smile. He had won.

"All right, father. I will take Merlin with me." He conceded in faked defeat.

"It is agreed then."

A moment later, the Prince excused himself to retire. Before leaving, though, he asked:

"And you are sure that this lady of Leoness would want to marry me."

The King did not notice the loaded question. "Of course she would. Nevertheless, she is a woman. It is not for her to decide. The King had made an offer and I…" Uther caught himself. "_We_… will accept it. That is, once you see the benefits of it, of course."

Arthur only nodded. "I see… Good night father."

"Good night son."

The warlock had to bite his inner cheek to prevent bursting in laugh. The Prince had played the King masterfully.


	3. Chapter 3: The conspiracy begins

SAME DISCLAIMER AS CHAPTER 1

* * *

_**3. The conspiracy begins**_

The trip had been most uneventful and they had reached their destination at high noon. Merlin looked around smiling. It was a very nice place.

The village surrounding the castle was small but quaint, and by the open looks and welcoming smiles of its inhabitants, it seemed obvious that they were a peaceful crowd.

The warlock was nodding his head and smiling left and right, but the Prince kept a stern look ahead. For some reason that Merlin could not fathom, Arthur's mood had been worsening the closer they'd gotten to Eleara. Maybe the true implications of the trip were finally catching up with his master.

Merlin shook his head. He really admired and cared for his charge. The Prince's dedication to duty was par to none, as it was his love for Camelot and its people. But the stoic attitude Arthur sometimes assumed, without even trying to look for an alternate venue other than his own sacrifice, was more often than not very unnerving for the young wizard.

He pondered on the Prince's answer the last time they had broached the subject: "_You are an incurable optimistic, Merlin. Sometimes I wonder what your secret is. We Pendragons only know of honor and duty. Optimism escapes us._"

The warlock, however, did not believe that for a second. Arthur was a Pendragon, but he was a far better man than his father. Always was, always would be. He just needed to be convinced of that.

What worried Merlin the most was the keen intuition that a bitter ruler could likely turn into a cruel ruler. It was certainly required a long leap of imagination to think of Arthur as cruel—other than all the pranks and tantrums the Prince had thrown at him over the years together—but just by looking at Uther one could see what remorse and frustration could do to a human being, honorable or not.

He needed to break Arthur free of this self-imposed mourning one way or another. The trip had seemed like a good idea at first, but now the Prince was back into his dark mood once again.

Maybe hitting him with something thick could help, if everything else failed. The young warlock decided he should keep that in mind.

They arrived at the castle. It was more like a large villa than a castle, really, and it seemed very old and pleasant. According to the Princess' letter, these had been her mother's lands. A small realm protected by the mountains and the river, out of the way of most of the important kingdoms and small enough not to justify the trouble of conquest by the neighboring Lords.

"_My own piece of paradise_" she had written, and both—master and servant—now understood what she had meant.

Arthur announced their arrival without much pomp. After all, this was supposed to be a secret meeting and the instructions had been very clear.

"_You will make known your arrival as visitors from Camelot as your party is expected. I would ask milord, however, that you do not speak to anyone until I arrive at the state. I will appreciate any and all efforts to keep your identity as secret as possible._"

He was glad when only a rounded maid received them and immediately showed them to their quarters. The rooms were modest but comfortable and there was something homey about the entire scenery.

Food was brought to them without requesting it and Merlin felt happy of being tended for a change. They ate voraciously.

"You know?" the warlock broke the silence with his mouth full. "I think now I understand how much you _suffer_ being pampered and tended all day long." He shook his head. "This is really unbearable."

Arthur looked at him scornfully, but there was a light of true amusement in his eyes. "Shut up Merlin."

"Sure… Are you going to eat that too?"

* * *

Later, when the same maid came to pick up the tray, Merlin asked, "Has the Princess arrived yet, madam?"

The woman was surprised they had spoken to her for the instructions said they would not. She looked anxious from one to another not knowing whether to answer or not. Arthur threw a deadly look at Merlin, who only shrugged his shoulders innocently.

The maid finally decided that she should respond to these lords. She did not know who they were, but they looked noble—at least one of them for sure—and they were the Princess' guests. It would certainly be an offense to ignore them.

"We are expecting her any moment now, milord. They are supposed to be here before dusk."

Merlin was about to correct the 'milord' treatment, but a look from Arthur told him to let it go. When the lady had left, Arthur shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe you will be my… advisor on this trip, being that they are willing to tend to both of us anyway."

Merlin arched his eyebrows. He had not been expecting that. "Really?"

Arthur went to the window. "Why not. Take it as a leave of absence of at least part of your duties."

"Oh… I can do that!" The smiling warlock stretched on the chaise and crossed his arms behind his head.

"But you still need to unpack."

Arthur swallowed a smile hearing his friend muttering complains—and even some mild profanities if his ears were not deceiving him—when a movement in the courtyard caught his attention.

"They are here."

Merlin rushed to the window.

There were three riders at the bottom of the main staircase: two ladies and a knight.

"Which one is she?" asked Merlin.

Arthur only shook his head. He had no idea.

"They are both very beautiful."

Even without voicing it, Arthur had to agree with Merlin. They both looked like noble ladies. One was blonde, the other had auburn hair. They were both fair and delicate.

_Which one indeed…_

Both ladies looked up the window as if knowing the guests would be there. With a soft nod, they acknowledged the visitors and Merlin and Arthur nodded in return.

"Why do you think the Princess has insisted in being so secretive about this meeting"? Merlin wondered, still looking at the courtyard.

The Prince sighed in annoyance. "What do you think my father would say if he knew where I am?"

"He would probably do not like it a bit…"

"Exactly." Arthur looked at him. "In her case is even worse, for she is a woman."

Merlin nodded in understanding, although he wasn't sure he had, and the Prince moved his attention back to the entrance.

"Her life belongs to her even less than mine belongs to me." He finished somberly.

The players were all there and now the planning to offset the unwanted marriage could finally begin. Finally, a ghost of a smile curved Arthur's lips and Merlin sighed in relief. Maybe there was hope.


	4. Chapter 4: The lady in waiting

SAME DISCLAIMER AS IN CHAPTER 1

* * *

_**4. The lady in waiting**_

Arthur was pacing the room feeling somehow trapped. The imminent meeting with Princess Gwynn was making him more nervous than he would have liked. Trying to contain his increasing anxiety, he pondered the situation once again.

He had made up his mind about her anyway and this was simply going to be a formal affair. They would meet, mutually agree that they were not right for each other, concoct some plausible excuse for both Kings, and he would return to Camelot where he would be a happy bachelor for the rest of his life.

Love was something that princes could not afford it seemed. Either that, or he had just been cursed with systematically choosing the wrong women to love. He had loved Morgana and she was gone. He had loved Gwen and she was gone from his life as well.

No.

His heart would only keep one love: his Kingdom.

Camelot was a gentle lover; a lover more generous and constant than any woman. He loved his people more than anything in the world. And somehow, he knew they loved him as well.

That was enough for him.

That_ WILL_ be enough for him.

With that in mind, he took a deep breath and sat, feeling more relaxed.

No need to worry. The decision had been made.

Then the door opened and the lady with auburn hair walked purposely into the room.

_So, she was the one_.

Arthur stood up and bowed his head.

"Princess Gw..." but before he could finish his greeting, she interrupted him.

"I am sorry to disappoint you Prince Arthur, but I am not the Princess. I am Finnabair, her lady in waiting."

Arthur's back stiffened.

So, the Lady of Leoness wouldn't meet him after all? What kind of games did this princess think she was playing?

"I thought your lady wanted to meet…" he blurted out without thinking.

She blushed a little and smiled. "She does. But she is not feeling well milord and she asked me to make your acquaintance on her behalf."

Great. That was just his luck…

How long would he have to stay in Eleara then?

As if reading his mind, the lady continued, "But she does not want to delay your visit or her stay longer than necessary, so she asked me to accompany you while she recovers. She has also entrusted me to reach a convenient arrangement with your Highness to solve this unfortunate predicament."

Now that was borderline insulting!

The Princess would rather have her lady in waiting dealing her affairs with a Prince than meeting him?

Outrageous! This Princess Gwynn was turning out to be more spoiled than he had thought.

Who did she think she was?

Most importantly, who did she think _HE_ was?

And then it downed on Arthur that neither the Princess, nor her lady in waiting knew him… So maybe two could play this game.

Yes. That was a good plan. A sly little smile curved his lip.

"I see… " He paused. "It seems that both our masters had sent messengers on their behalf then."

It was obvious that she was not expecting that.

"My lord?" There was an utter confusion in her big green eyes.

"I am not Prince Arthur either" he lied through his teeth. "I am a just his knight. A trusted one, but only a knight."

"Where is the Prince then?" she looked around in puzzlement.

Arthur felt great. Somehow he had managed to turn the game around and he had now the upper hand.

_Good._

He relaxed against the table and crossed his arms.

"Not here. He sent me to met the Princess on his behalf."

For a moment he thought her eyes had flashed in anger. But it was so brief he couldn't be sure as a second later she was looking at him with a rather enigmatic expression.

"I understand." was her only comment.

Arthur finally took a moment to study her and his eyes roamed her body unabashedly. He hadn't noticed before how beautiful this lady was. Her hair was a rich auburn, almost the red of the autumn forest, and her eyes were a penetrating green.

She was dressed in blue, quite simply actually. Perhaps that should have been a clue. In any case, he found he had to reevaluate his initial assessment: she was _very_ beautiful indeed. His exploration, however, was cut short by her cold tone.

"Your eyes offend me, sire!"

He straightened immediately and lowered his head, ashamed of having been so bold. Even if she was a servant she deserved his respect. Someone from his past had taught him that lesson very well.

"Apologies milady." He said sincerely. "For a moment your beauty blinded me and I could not help but stare. I assure you I meant no disrespect."

She must have perceived the truth in his words for she relaxed and smiled again.

"Apology accepted my lord." She approached him. "I do not think I know your name."

His name, _right_.

He hadn't thought of that.

"My name? But of course…" He stalled. "My name is… Sir…Merlin"

Arthur winced at his own stupidity. Using his manservant's name was possibly one of the most idiotic things he'd done. And he'd done plenty.

But she didn't seem to notice and softly bowed.

"A pleasure meeting you, Sir Merlin"

He grabbed her hand and kissed it thinking briefly how soft it felt for that of a commoner. "The pleasure is all mine, lady Finnabair"

There was a small pause while she seemed to ponder something. Finally, she asked amused.

"So… What now? What are we going to do my lord?"

Arthur had been wondering the same thing. On the spur of the moment he had turned the tables on his favor simply because his pride had forced him to do so, and now he was trapped in his own lie. He would not admit it anyways. Not yet at least.

He thought for a moment and then put on his most charming smile; the one he knew for certain worked wonders on the ladies. "Well, milady, it seems that we are not going to be able to fulfill our missions this afternoon. However, we could get acquainted with each other?" he offered with feigned innocence.

She laughed softly and for a moment he seriously considered the possibility that she was actually seeing through his charade. But she finally acquiesced.

"I supposed you are right my lord. At least I can report to the Princess how are the likes of the Prince's company."

Arthur arched an eyebrow in question and she shrugged her shoulders shooting him an amused green flash.

"It is said that birds of a feather flock together."

He couldn't repress a genuine smile. The lady had wits, no doubt. It could be a very interesting day after all.


	5. Chapter 5: Getting acquainted

SAME DISCLAIMER AS IN CHAPTER 1

* * *

_**5. Getting acquainted**_

They had shared a walk through the forest behind the state, talking about everything and anything. Despite of the rather tranquil activity, the day seemed to have passed inordinately quickly for Arthur.

Finnabair was proving to be a quite more intriguing person than he had first imagined; not mentioning that she had managed to keep his interest in the conversation longer than any other woman he could recall… Including Morgana, with whom the verbal sparring—after years of perfecting it—had always been a challenging and uplifting event.

He did not want to make much of it, but the truth was that this clever and spirited—not to mention gorgeous—female had a rare sense of humor that he was finding fascinating.

It had also occurred to him that without his title in the middle, he had the opportunity of being just plain Arthur. A luxury he did not remember ever having enjoyed.

The discovery had brought forth a warm feeling of freedom that soothed him to no end. Maybe this unforeseen change in the game plan had been a blessing in disguise after all.

They were resting next to a small stream, lying on the soft green. A comfortable silence surrounded them.

"The water looks wonderful…" she mused in thoughts.

He came back from his reverie. "Indeed".

"I wonder if it's cold."

Before he could elaborate on the concept, she got up and took off her slippers.

Arthur's eyebrows rose in surprise. What was she doing?

And then she looked at him admonishingly.

"My lord! Would you mind?"

Arthur's blank expression told her clearly that he had not understood her objection.

"I need to shed my stockings sir, and I cannot do so in front of a man I _just_ met." She teased.

The Prince blushed and looked away. It would be only after they had gone separate ways that Arthur would realize her suggestive jest. For the moment he just felt out of place.

"You can look now," her voice came from the distance. "The water is marvelous!"

Arthur turned to see Finnabair happily splashing the shallow waters with her naked feet. She had her skirt in a bundle and was giggling like a little girl.

"Come, Sir Merlin… You are welcome to join me! You will enjoy it." She invited.

The Prince found her enthusiasm really contagious. In a second he discarded his boots and hoses and was in the water playing with her.

They ran and splashed like children and finally landed heavily on the bank again, laughing their hearts out.

Arthur could not remember the last time he had laughed so much and so freely. The day had definitely turned out to be a surprise and everything was due to the fact that—for once in his life—he did not have the pressure of acting like the prince he was… That, and this delicious lady of course, who was indeed a handful.

He sobered up a bit and rested on his arm to look at her. She was still exhilarated, her cheeks a warm pink and her hair disheveled. The word '_edible_' came to his mind for some reason.

"Oh my…" she was saying, her chest heaving, "I haven't had this much fun in ages!"

She moved her face to look at him and the prince got seriously lost in her bright green eyes. His mouth went dry and he had to make an effort not to caress the rebel strands away from her face.

"Thank you my lord" she whispered, also sobering up under his piercing stare. Why was it that she had not noticed before how incredibly blue his eyes were?

Oddly enough, Arthur had the distinct awareness that she was grateful for something larger than a mere afternoon in a river. Perhaps because of that, he felt he ought to express his profound gratitude as well.

"No, milady. Thank _you_."

A different kind of silence enveloped them and the air grew thick as Arthur's eyes journeyed to her mouth; somewhere in some devious part of his brain a little voice was simply asking why not.

Although clueless of what was going on in the warrior's mind, Finnabair could feel the change in the atmosphere and turned her face back to the sky, only to find herself comparing its color with that of the knight's eyes… the latter far more stunning.

She sighed, breaking up the spell that had momentarily engulfed Arthur.

"We should go back"

The Prince shook his head to clear his mind of those dangerous thoughts and looked at the sky too. The sun was going to be down shortly and they should be back in the castle before that.

"As my lady wishes."

* * *

After delivering Finnabair to her quarters, Arthur walked into his own chambers smiling like a teenager and taking Merlin completely off guard with his demeanor.

"Oh, hello Merlin."

"Hello Sire. Did you have a good day?"

"I had… "Arthur smiled widely and paused for a bigger effect "the most wonderful day ever!"

"Is that so?" Merlin frowned. "I take that you like the princess then? Everything in place not to marry her, I assume."

"As a matter of fact I did not meet the princess but her lady in waiting." Arthur paused and smiled again. "Lady Finnabair…"

There was a caress in the way the Prince pronounced the lady's name and the foreign light in his eyes took Merlin aback. The warlock did not recall seeing that before.

It was not the besotted look that Arthur had while being under magical spells as with Vivian or Sophia. It was neither the hopeless ache with which the Prince used to look at Guinevere, nor the guilty fascination he had seen in his master's eyes when glancing at Lady Morgana. It was a new, strange and—hopefully so—genuine contentment.

He searched for the right words to ask what happened, but it seemed that Arthur was in a divulgatory mood and explained, or rather briefly summarized, the situation without being asked.

When the Prince was done—with the lack of eloquence that was his trademark in these cases—Merlin was shocked to say the least and possibly more confused than ever. Before making the first attempt to digest the abrupt change in plans, the warlock realized he did not even have all the pieces of the puzzle.

"And with whom does Lady Finnabair think _she_ had been today?"

Arthur laughed unreservedly. Another occurrence Merlin hadn't witnessed for the longest time, by the way.

"You won't believe it, but I am…_Sir Merlin_. Knight and advisor of Prince Arthur"

'Flabbergasted' could not even begin to describe Merlin's expression as the poor wizard was trying to process all the convoluted information he had just received. Maybe his master had lost his mind after all? A moment later, though, the entire situation started to look quite comical.

"Are you pretending to be… _ME_?"

There was far more than just a hint of amusement in his question and the Prince was not about to let his servant's head grow any bigger.

"Of course not! To start with, you are not a knight…"

"But I am your advisor…"

"More like an annoying pet…"

"But I am Merlin. How many _Merlins _do you think there are out there?"

"Ok. Ok." Arthur's hands were in the air giving up. "I could not think of a name fast enough so I used yours. Happy now?"

Merlin smiled with satisfaction. "Very." But then he remembered. "And if you are me… who am I?"

Arthur's face broke in a slightly sadistic smirk. "You are… Prince Arthur, naturally."

"Oh, no!"

"Oh, yes."

"I can't! Everyone will see through me!"

"Of course, " Arthur reasoned behind the screen while he was divesting, "you don't have what it takes to be me…"

"I didn't say that…" Merlin caught the shirt that flew over the screen.

"And you are nowhere near as handsome as I am…"

"I didn't say that either…" Now it was the undershirt.

"And you cannot fight as well as… Truth is, you just cannot fight."

"That is true." Merlin conceded grabbing the pants that fell on the floor and piling the clothes in a basket.

"But," Arthur came out with a towel on his waist. "I _have_ to see lady Finnabair again and if the Princess suddenly recovers and wants to meet me, you'll have to do."

"But…"

"And that's and order Merlin."

The warlock sighed in defeat. He knew better than to try and talk the Prince out of anything. And truth be told, he could definitely see how jovial his master's mood was now, in a stark contrast with the ominous disposition of the previous days.

Maybe this charade of not being the crown prince of Camelot was something Arthur actually needed. Merlin shrugged his shoulders. How hard could it be anyways?


	6. Chapter 6: Mirage

SAME DISCLAIMER AS IN CHAPTER 1

* * *

_**6. Mirage**_

Arthur had left his chambers very early the following morning surprising Merlin to no end in the process. After a brief discussion in which he had forbidden his servant to leave their quarters under penalty of indescribable suffering, he had gone straight to Finnabair's quarters.

The Prince was taken aback, however, when a young knight—perhaps the royal guard he had seen in the courtyard—answered the door. There was also surprise, albeit an unwelcomed one, in the soldier's face.

"Is Lady Finnabair available?"

The eyes of the young knight narrowed slightly at the commanding tone, but he nodded and walked inside. A moment later, Finnabair appeared at the door.

"Sir Merlin, good morning!" she greeted with a bright smile.

The guard was standing a step behind her with a quite unfriendly expression, and when Arthur kissed the hand she had extended he could feel the disapproval burning in the other man's eyes.

"Good morning milady."  
_What is going on here?_

As if reading his mind, Finnabair announced.  
"Sir Merlin, please let me introduce to you Sir Lescaut. He is the Princess' royal guard." And turning towards the young soldier she explained with a smile. "Sir Merlin is Prince Arthur's trusted knight and his companion on this trip."

_He might be the Princess' guard, milady, but he seems a bit too possessive of you actually. I wonder if you are aware of that.  
_In spite of his thoughts, Arthur's face did not betray anything at all and both men nodded briefly, cautiously measuring each other.

Regardless of the slightly awkward situation, the Prince did not want to waste time and went straight to business.  
"Is the Princess feeling well today, milady?"

Her face straightened and her voice took a slightly mortified cadence, or so he thought. "I am afraid not, Sir Merlin. It seems that the trip has been more arduous on her than expected."

"I am sorry to hear that."  
_Liar._

Although the Princess' absence worked perfectly with his plans, Arthur wondered briefly if he should have looked more preoccupied; but in truth his mind had currently only one concern and that was to spend more time with this lady.

"Nevertheless, I would be happy to meet the Prince this morning," she offered in a business-like tone.

Arthur's brain began to work in overdrive. There was _no way_ he would allow Finnabair to spend time with Merlin instead of him.

He needed to find a compromising solution and quickly, before the stalling became too obvious. Not to mention that Lescaut was still looking at him with utmost suspicion.

"I do not think it would be possible, milady. You see, yesterday I explained the situation to the Prince, and although he appreciates your offer and that of your lady, he would rather wait for the Princess to recover and meet in person."

Yes. That was a good justification, or was it?

Her expression turned unreadable again and, if Arthur had not known any better, he could have sworn that she was the one stalling now. The guard, meanwhile, kept looking at him like a hawk.

After a pause Finnabair seemed to have reached a conclusion.  
"Very well then, I will inform the Princess." And she prepared to go back inside.

That was _not_ what Arthur had intended _either_. Without Finnabair, his options were reduced to spend the day quarrelling with Merlin; the sole idea made him almost panic.

"Milady", he spoke quickly. "If the Princess can part from your services temporarily, could I interest you in a ride?"

She seemed to hesitate and he took that as a good sign. Perhaps if he adorned the temptation a bit more she would yield.

"It is a beautiful day outside and there won't be many more like this as summer is reaching its end. The Prince does not need me today, thus I have time in my hands and I was hoping to have a knowledgeable guide to show me the surroundings?" He finished with what he hoped was his most irresistible smile.

Finnabair blushed slightly and Arthur knew it had worked. "All right, my lord. Let me talk to the Princess and I will see what I can do."

She left and Lescaut followed, but not before throwing a not-so-subtle warning look at the Prince. Arthur lifted an eyebrow. He should probably keep an eye on the young knight. There was no need for this relaxed state of affairs to develop some hostile edges.

* * *

They had ridden to the outskirts of the village and stopped in the ruins of a very old castle. There was a large oak that had managed to grow in a middle of what appeared to have been the throne room. They sat comfortably on some eroded short pillars right under the generous shade of the tree.

Arthur decided to break the silence that had traveled along with them ever since they had left the state.

"I am glad Princess Gwynn had allowed you to accompany me, milady."

She smiled briefly but did not answer. Even though Arthur had never been very good at reading human emotions, he could tell that she was troubled in spite of her efforts to conceal it. What he could not, however, was to fathom the reason behind her silent mood.

He looked for another venue to try and bring back the light atmosphere of the day before. It disconcerted him that the spirited lady of yesterday seemed to have been replaced by this cold and distant maid of today. Could everything have been only a mirage after all?

"The Princess must be very generous to allow you to come despite her indisposition."

She tried another smile that did not fully reach her eyes. "You could say that, milord."

"I imagine you like her quite much."

Her face took a sadder expression and she looked away. "No, milord. Not really."

That was certainly not the answer Arthur was expecting and his surprised expression spoke plainly of it.

"You do not?"

Finnabair sighed and the Prince thought she would not respond. After a couple of seconds, though, her voice came back a bit bitter if he was hearing correctly.

"I wish she had more courage…" was all she said.

Arthur did not really know what etiquette he should follow there. Should he continue making inquiries and risking offending her with his probing? Of should he shut up and risk offending her with his lack of interest? Fortunately for him, she came to his rescue.

"She is afraid of her uncle." Darkened green eyes looked at him. "She knows she should not be, but does not seem to be able to help it."

Arthur's surprise began to mix with incipient anger. Why would the Princess be afraid of her own family? The words escaped him without a second thought.  
"Why is she afraid of the King? Does he mistreat her?"

She understood that it was the overprotecting Knight in him speaking and smiled softly.  
"No, milord. He is too cunning to do so."

Arthur was even more confused but did not have time to ask. Without warning, her voice turned as cold as ice.

"And he is not the King. He is just the Steward of Leoness". The latter title was accentuated with a distinct derisiveness.

The Prince was taken aback by this fact but Finnabair wasn't done yet.

"After the death of her brother, the Princess became the only heir to the throne. However, because she is a woman", there was a more than noticeable annoyance in her tone, "she can only become queen once she marries, thus the kingdom will be inherited by an outsider king."

According to Arthur, this new disclosure may have very well explained why the Princess did not want to marry him. Maybe, and just like him, she did not want to marry _at all_.

Her voice brought him out of his thoughts quick enough.  
"I am sure that in Camelot they are perfectly aware of this situation." Again that contemptuous tone he could clearly sense, but which grounds he could not comprehend. Why was the lady so edgy this morning?

He pondered on the issue for a moment before answering. "I cannot say about King Uther, but I am certain Prince Arthur does not know any of this."

She arched a perfect eyebrow in disbelief and the Prince let out a small laugh.

"Do not look so surprised, my lady. " He teased. "Prince Arthur is not court material."

He paused for a second as he thought there was an actual smile of approval on her lips.

"He never paid too much attention to the matters of the states as he has always preferred battlefield to court." And approaching her a bit more as if telling a secret, he concluded. "Less politics, simpler rules."

This time the smile of approval fully lightened up her face. Finally she seemed to be coming out of her shell!

Since the topic had apparently worked, Arthur thought that this was an excellent opportunity to learn something else about the elusive Princess. The general mood felt relaxed enough.

"So, is that the reason why the Princess does not want to marry the Prince?"

As soon as his words were out, however, Arthur realized that he had misjudged the truce. Finnabair sighed again and stood up walking a few steps away from him; she began to play absentmindedly with the leaves of a lower branch.

There was a long pause before she answered, and when she did the coldness in her voice came back tenfold.  
"That's the reason she dreads marriage, milord. Your Prince in particular is an added inconvenience."

Arthur stiffened and stood up with a jump. He could recall being called many things, but _never_ an 'inconvenience'. He closed the distance towards where Finnabair was standing in purposeful strides. At that point, he could care less weather he was risking blowing up his cover or not. His icy response cut the air like a blade.

"That's a very bold statement for someone who hasn't met the Prince yet."

She noted the abrupt change in his demeanor—understandable, if she was to be honest—but rather than letting the issue go, she felt compelled to push even further. Startled by her own audacity, she continued without facing him.

"It doesn't matter, milord, he hails from Camelot after all. What else is there to know…"

Arthur's blood was heating up quite rapidly. First she had insulted him… or his royal persona as it was, and now she was attacking his Kingdom nonetheless!  
He took a deep breath trying to calm his raising ire. And even though it was not his true intention, his next question came underlined by all the sarcasm he had accrued over the years.

"And what _do you_ know about Camelot, milady?"

She looked at him with narrowed, fiery eyes; his biting disdain not lost to her.

"What every other kingdom knows, milord. That Camelot is a mere citadel built with the sole purpose of protecting a tyrant."

The Prince was so appalled at the blunt offense that could only repeat her words in a strangled sound. "A citadel? A tyrant?"

Finnabair did not know what had come over her to explode like that, but it was too late already. The damage had been done, so she might as well finish it.

"Everyone knows that King Uther is a despotic ruler. " She shrugged her shoulders derisively. "He is obsessed with his own beliefs and does not hesitate in killing innocent people… You surely know that too."

"The King does what is best for his Kingdom!" he roared coming even closer, crowding her. His eyes were two slits of blue rage sending a loud warning, but she maintained her stance.

In any other circumstance, Arthur could have acknowledged the fact that his previous statement might not have been _entirely_ true. After all, he had challenged his father's judgments more times than he would dare to admit. This lady, however, had no right to say so.

She let out a mirthless laugh. This warrior was blinded by honor and duty, just like all warriors.

"Milord… " She hissed. "I understand that you have sworn an oath to the kingdom… But I thought you had a bit more of independent thinking! King Uther does not care about his people; all he cares about is _he_ and _his_ royal house!"

Arthur swallowed hard. He had never heard so many insults to his father and kingdom at once.  
He knew very well his father's faults and shortcomings. He could even remember the times Morgana had used similar words when she had rebelled against some of his father's rulings. But this lady was an outsider and this was simply _too much._

"You…" He said between gritted teeth, "have _NO_ right to insult my king and my kingdom! Camelot is a _great_ kingdom, a kingdom worth fighting and dying for! I've been fighting for it ever since I can remember; I had put my life on the line for it more times than I care to count… " His voice became a deadly whisper, "Camelot is _my_ kingdom as well, milady. You should _not_ forget that."

He was towering over her and she felt trapped, physically and emotionally. This knight was a force to be reckoned with and she should have remembered that.

She should have also remembered that his closeness could disturb her as nothing ever had. It was perhaps time to admit defeat and walk away before things got really out of hand.

Her resentment for the Pendragons had broken the incipient bond that seemed to have blossomed with this noble knight only yesterday. With everything ruined on that end, she could only hope now to keep some of her dignity intact; and she knew she was walking a thin line already on that part too.

"Point taken, sire. It was not my intention to insult you and I understand your love for Camelot… I apologize for my words... I was only thinking of the Princess." The frostiness of her voice somehow negated the apology, but it was the best she could do at the moment.

Arthur was breathing hard… still very angry. The worst part, he discovered, was that instead of wanting to throttle her, suddenly all he could think of was kissing her senseless.

This side of Finnabair was a new and very startling discovery. It had been obvious from the moment they'd met that she was a very sharp and independent person. But the passion she had shown defending her opinion—however misguided—was certainly a revelation on a whole other level.

"For someone who said _not_ to like the Princess very much, you seem very adamant in defending her views."

Check mate.  
He knew it and his lips curved in a lop-sided smirk. He had trapped her in her own words.

Although she did not verbally acknowledge the defeat, her cheeks blushed heatedly in humiliation and she kept looking at him utterly annoyed. Her eyes were two pools of flaming green fury.

Oh… baiting her brought forth an added and unexpected satisfaction, and Arthur felt his ire melting away. She was close; so close that her uneven breathing was tickling his chin.

Damn the consequences, he just wanted to taste her lips and kiss her anger away. Most of all, he wanted her to surrender.

His eyes kept her in place as he closed the scarce distance that remained between their bodies. His mouth was almost closing on hers when the loud neighing of the horses, scared by a curious squirrel, brought him back to the harsh reality.

At the sound, Finnabair's eyelashes fluttered effectively breaking his hypnotic hold and Arthur retreated.

"We should go back."

The Prince only nodded. With a heavy heart he helped her on her horse and mounted his own. Perhaps what he thought he had found the previous day had been a mirage after all.


	7. Chapter 7: Fateful memories

SAME DISCLAIMER AS IN CHAPTER 1

Thank you so very much for the kind reviews. I really appreciate the feedback :-)

* * *

_**7. Fateful memories**_

After the disheartening developments of the early afternoon, Arthur decided that it was probably better not to return to his chambers just yet. Merlin would surely be waiting with an endless string of questions that he most certainly did not want to answer.

Finnabair's words had stung far more than he cared to admit.  
Would that be truly what she thought of his kingdom?

Arthur knew very well that his father was not a popular ruler. They had had countless discussions, and even heated arguments due to many of the King's decrees. His father was convinced that a ruler should only rule, but the Prince wanted to believe that a ruler could also _care_.

Throughout the years, he had been confronted in numerous occasions with people who had deeply rooted resentments against King Uther. His own life and Camelot's fate had been in extreme peril many times because of that.

But that was his father.  
What about his kingdom? What about Camelot?  
Would people extend the same loathing they felt for the king to the entire kingdom?

If that were so, then Camelot's future would be certainly a thorny one. And he would be the one inheriting that loathing.

The prospect looked very bleak…

The Prince shook his head trying to dismiss those dark thoughts. He needed to train to get his brain out of the merry-go-round of conflicting emotions in which the confrontation with the lady had managed to get him into.

There was a large esplanade in the back of the castle that invited to exercise and Arthur began practicing with his sword. Blow after blow, invisible enemies of his loved Camelot were falling at his feet. Slowly, one purposeful strike after another started to exhaust his tense muscles and lifted his spirits a bit.

After a long while he paused, breathing hard. It was dusk already; he had been there longer than he had thought. Maybe Merlin would be asleep by now, if the gods were to grant him such blessing.

With that hope, he dried the sweat on his brow with his sleeve and turned towards the castle. Tomorrow would be another day.

* * *

Unbeknownst to Arthur, Finnabair had been observing him through the window with a saddened expression. It had been unfair of her to unload all those resentful feelings on the knight. He was a simple warrior, after all; a noble soldier who had no other option but to believe in the kingdom for which he was willing to die.

And his anger had been plenty justified. She'd had no right to insult his beliefs in such fashion.

There was, however a different and more delicate matter with which she was trying to come to terms. It was unsettling and bewildering, but real and strong all the same.

The truth was that this knight had managed to impress her far more than she had expected. His dry sense of humor and careless openness was like a breath of fresh air when compared with the boringly uptight and many times double-faced men of court.

He was gentle and courteous, and yet there was such an untamed power brewing underneath his knightly demeanor that took her breath away.

She blushed remembering the way his impossibly blue eyes had held her captive, commanding her to stay still under his glare. She had seen something else besides anger in those eyes; something deeper and feral that had twisted her insides. And she had wanted him to kiss her. That much she knew, even if she did not have the courage to examine her feelings any further.

Perhaps she could at least try and set the record straight with him, if he would give her one more chance. There was only one way to know. She left the window and sat at her desk.

* * *

Arthur walked into the antechamber of his quarters and found it empty. He peered inside Merlin's room and found the warlock snoring loudly and still dressed on the bed. He figured his servant had been waiting for him and fell asleep in the process.

_Finally, some good news_.  
The gods may have decided to grant him at least one wish this day.

He moved towards his own room when a soft noise made him go back to the entrance. It was fairly dark and he drew his sword silently. Someone was behind the door.

Arthur tiptoed his way to the massive wooden door and opened it with a swift movement, only to find Lescaut kneeling down and trying to slide something underneath.

The Prince sheathed his sword and arched his eyebrows in surprise pondering whether he should be amused or concerned by the situation.

The young knight stood up with a start and straightened his back immediately. The contempt in his eyes was clearly still there, and so the Prince thought that perhaps concern should have been the choice.

"Can I help you with something Lescaut?"

The mockery in his tone made the eyes of the young warrior flashed in downright fury and Arthur discovered that annoying the Princess' guard was an added perk, which he felt he deserved after a very eventful and tiresome day.

"Lady Finnabair asked me to bring this to you."

He gave Arthur the sealed parchment and after a moment of an ostensible internal debate, he warned.

"You should thread carefully, sire. Lady Finnabair is not one to be trifled with."

All right then, it appeared to Arthur that his suspicions had been correct and that this knight was _overly_ protective of his mistress' lady in waiting. Could the obvious displeasure may be attributable to just plain jealousy?

Whatever the case, the Prince was not in the mood to argue with Lescaut. He just looked at him with his best royal glare and closed the door.

Moving to a nearby candle, he opened the note and a hint of a soft jasmine perfume reached his nostrils. Arthur breathed it in and began to read.

_Milord,_

_It is with a heavy heart that I am writing this note. The words I have uttered this afternoon and which had deeply upset you were not meant for your ears, but for those of your Prince._

_In spite of that, the purpose of this letter it is not to excuse my poor behavior but rather to explain the reason behind it. _

_A few years ago, some dear friends of mine endeavor towards the southern territories in pursuit of a new life. Unfortunately, they got lost in the forest of Ascetir and were ambushed by bandits. One of them was severely wounded and he would have surely died if not for a providential intervention._

_The Druids found my friends and gave them shelter in their camp; they also fed and healed them, solely out of the goodness of their hearts. _

_Shortly after, however, the Druid's camp was attacked by Camelot soldiers. It was supposed to be a rescue mission of King Uther's ward. You probably know of this._

_They left almost none alive. _

_My friends were innocent milord. They had been there only by an unfortunate coincidence, and yet they perished under Camelot's swords; swords that were only executing the King's orders._

_I believe you have a good heart, my lord. And it is to that goodness that I am reaching now to ask for your forgiveness._

_I will be waiting for you tomorrow morning in the library, should you choose to accept my apologies in person._

_Sincerely,_

_Finnabair._

After reading the letter, Arthur sat in the dimly lit room for hours. The carrousel of confusing sentiments, which the exhausting practice had effectively stopped earlier, was spinning again out of control in his head.

Finnabair's letter had been a blow to his stomach and the memory of that fateful day in the forest of Ascetir came vividly and unedited to his mind, hitting him again with full force.

_He_ had been the one who had enforced his father's orders.

"_Take no prisoners." _Uther had said_.  
_They had taken none.

What hurt the most was that she was apologizing to _Sir Merlin_, the knight. But just as she had written, her spiteful words had been intended for _him_, Prince Arthur. Little did she know that he had received them first hand.

Her note had further hinted that—even if he had been one of the soldiers of Ascetir—she was not holding it against him. Then again, she had written so to Sir Merlin.  
Would she think the same if she was aware of his true identity?

He bitterly scoffed.  
_Probably not._

She had said that Camelot's swords "_were only executing the King's orders._"  
What would she say if she knew that he had been the direct executioner?

Moreover, what would she think if she knew he had been the _one person _who could have prevented the massacre, but he had chosen not to?  
He chose to follow orders, instead, like any other soldier.

He sighed and went to his bed. He was actually very tired.  
Guilt was a feeling this warrior prince was definitely _not_ familiar with, and he found himself at lost as to how to deal with it.

He tried and pushed away those fateful memories and his last thoughts before falling asleep were of Finnabair. Somehow knowing that he would see her in the morning made him smile, despite of everything. Maybe, just maybe, not all was lost.


	8. Chapter 8: Not all is lost

SAME DISCLAIMER AS IN CHAPTER 1

My beta has been away on vacation for a while now, and although I have gone over these chapters many times, I apologize for any grammar errors that might have been overlooked.

Thanks again for the kind reviews. :-)

* * *

_**8. Not all is lost**_

A particularly annoying noise finally woke Arthur from his deep slumber. It sounded like Merlin calling from the distance.

Still lost in the netherworld between sleep and alertness, the Prince wondered why he never remembered to keep his dagger under the pillow. A simple knife could work too; anything to get rid of his servant's aggravatingly cheerful morning mood.

Merlin was speaking loudly from the antechamber but Arthur could not really discern about what, not that he cared either… He stretched and felt the familiar protest of the muscles he had overworked the evening before. He welcomed the pain and smiled, it had been a good practice.

And then reality hit him like a cold wind, fully awakening him.  
_The training… Finnabair, the quarrel, her note…_

She was expecting him!  
Was he late already?

_Oh… no!  
_Out of all the mornings when he could have indulged in a late start, this was possibly the worst one!

He jumped out of his bed cursing his carelessness and did not even call for his manservant. Merlin's incessant chitchat would be an added nuisance right now.

He washed quickly and dressed in a hurry. He would not forgive himself if he had missed his appointment with the lady…

Meanwhile, Merlin had been enjoying the breakfast that had been brought much earlier to their quarters, and was still talking especially loud in order to wake up his charge. He almost fell off his chair when Arthur appeared, freshly washed and quite ready.

"You are dressed!"

"I am late." The Prince grunted, fumbling with his clothes and straightening them.

"Late for what?"

The warlock couldn't help but suspect that something was wrong. He had not heard Arthur returning the previous night, and had no idea what had happened during his outing with lady Finnabair. However, the Prince's temper seemed to be back in the dark side.

"Nothing that you should concern yourself with." Arthur's icy tone was a good indication that Merlin had read the situation correctly. The Prince was crossed. The reason, however, would remain a mystery until his master decided otherwise, as apparently the communication channels had been closed again.

"Aren't you going to have breakfast?"

The lack of answer confused the young wizard even more. _Nothing_ distracted Arthur from his morning meal. The only plausible explanation was that something was terribly amiss.

Arthur was at the door already. "_Do not_ leave this room."

It was a royal order and Merlin knew the drill. 'Shut-up-and-hope-for-the-best' was usually the recommended course of action in these situations.

* * *

The Prince walked into the library as if demons were chasing after him. Only when he saw Finnabair sitting on the windowsill he released the breath he did not know he had been holding.

She was pensively looking at the rain falling down in the garden; when the door closed behind Arthur she turned towards the noise. Their eyes locked and a tension—invisible and nonetheless real, just like the wind—filled the space between them.

He blurted out without even thinking.  
"I was afraid I would not find you here…"

Finnabair stood up and a timid smile tried to make its way to her lips. Her voice was barely above a whisper.  
"I was afraid you would not come…"

Arthur felt a strange emotion brewing in his chest at her candid reply. Relief was a big part of it, and something else he couldn't discern but that inexorably pulled him to where she was. He spoke again, looking deeply into her bottomless green eyes.

"I am sorry."

The Prince internally scolded himself for his lack of eloquence. He had meant to apologize for Ascetir, for his harsh words of yesterday, and for whatever harm he had been responsible. But just one look at her beautiful face made all his carefully prepared expressions of regret vanished from his mind.

With every one of his formal thoughts gone, only what was really in his heart found its way to his voice, and amazingly, those three little words were all he was able to muster.

Yet Finnabair understood everything. She knew exactly what he had truly meant as clear as if he had spelled it out; a lump crushed her throat at the simple honesty of his declaration.

"I am sorry too, milord."

Arthur felt humbled by her graciousness and desperately wanted to wash her sorrow away; the alien feeling of guilt unbalanced him once again. She should not be apologizing for anything.

"No, milady… Please… Do not…"

Finnabair shook her head interrupting him.  
"But I _must_, milord. It was rude and wrong of me to insult your beliefs in such a manner... And…"

The Prince's stoic sense of duty could not endure her apology anymore. It was unwarranted and unnecessary. No one should be ashamed of speaking one's mind, least of all her. He moved a step closer hoping that his proximity would silence her, since his words could not.

It worked.  
She gasped almost inaudibly, her eyes big and startled, and shut up.

In any other moment, Arthur might have rejoiced in the obvious effect that his nearness had on her. Right now, however, his only focus was to come clean. He had to let her know he had been the commander of the attack that had taken the lives of her friends, and then deal with the outcome whatever it might be.

His shoulders straightened and his voice sounded completely devoid of emotion.

"_I was_ there milady."

Finnabair looked momentarily puzzled.  
_What was he speaking of?_

"I was in Ascetir."

Oh… that.  
Whatever it was that she was thinking, she kept her calmed eyes trained on his.  
"I do not hold it against you, milord."

But Arthur carried on in the same lifeless tone.  
"Perhaps you should."

It did not take much for Finnabair to realize that he was chastising himself for it, and she decided she was not going to let him do that. He was a soldier following orders. He was _not_ to blame for what happened.

Her voice came back confident and firm; her eyes serious and determined.

"No milord; I would not do that. I wish I could take back what I'd said, but I cannot." She paused briefly. "You are a warrior who follows orders… And whatever you might think of the fairness of such orders, I know very well that you are in no position to defy your king… or your prince, for that matter."

Before Arthur could tell her that _he__ was_ the Prince she obviously despised so much, Finnabair took a deep breath and spoke her next words all at once, afraid that a pause would rob her of the necessary courage.

"Milord, although we have met only recently, I found your company very agreeable and our conversations enlightening and enriching... and I would regret it immensely if my unsuitable diatribe of yesterday has driven a wedge between us … I…"

Arthur had not been expecting this _at all_ and his eyes narrowed slightly while trying to process this new development. The lady seemed to be verbalizing his own feelings …

Could she really be saying what he hoped she was saying?

After her first tirade, however, Finnabair could not hold his piercing blue eyes any longer and felt her assertiveness waving. Blushing thoroughly, she looked down and continued in a whispery, raspy voice.

"I know that any friendship between us is unlikely, but it would pain me very much if we were to part in ill terms after the businesses between our royals are done…"

The Prince was taken aback so much by her admission that at first he did not know what to make of it…  
Was she suggesting, perhaps, that they should continue their friendship…?

He did not dare to dream of such good fortune, as she had obviously meant the knight, Sir Merlin. If he were to disclose his true identity, then the offer would be certainly withdrawn from the table.

Arthur found himself excited and apprehensive at the same time.  
He wished to continue and pursue her company more than anything. The drawback was, however, that in order to do so he had to persist on his charade.

To make things worse, the Prince discovered that although he hadn't had any problems of conscience at the beginning, deceiving this lady had begun to feel very wrong now.  
What was he to do?

Finnabair could see the turmoil looming in his eyes, but his face—after years of royal training—was not betraying anything. She could not stop her next comment.

"Heavens, milord… I had not expected you to be so good at concealing your thoughts. That's usually a treat of court men, not warriors. One would think that you are also well trained in matters of the court…"

After a second surprise and her change in demeanor, the situation downed on the Prince and a soft flush rose to his cheeks. He looked down slightly embarrassed, but could not help an amused smile.  
_If she only knew…_

"I said that as a compliment, milord."

And yet another unexpected declaration that threw him off balance… He looked back at her with unreserved bewilderment.

"Milady, of all the people I'd met, and I had met some, you are the only person who can unhinged me in a middle of a conversation as easily as it is to make a child laugh."

It was her turn to be perplexed, and he continued impishly.  
"And I_ also_ meant that as a compliment."

Her expression instantly changed. A mischievous smile that mirrored his own began dancing in her lips, and something akin to appreciation shone in her eyes when she replied.

"_Touché, _sire_._"

And just like that, the atmosphere lightened once again. A comfortable silence settled in the room while they kept looking at each other, both uncertain of what to do or say next.

Arthur reckoned that it was his turn to speak, though he was fighting an exhausting internal battle. His honorable royal side desperately wanted to tell her the truth, yet the other—a rather more selfish human side—was insisting on maintaining his pretense of being Sir Merlin.

In any case, the Prince was perfectly aware that the revelation would be inevitable at some point, and he was not deluding himself into thinking that everything would miraculously fall into place.  
But was it too wrong to try and extend the enjoyable experience with this lady as much as he could?

Her incredibly expressive eyes drew him in and Arthur made his decision.

"Would milady accept the friendship of this warrior then?" He imagined that it was a good enough alternative to a full disclosure. He _was_, after all, a_ warrior_.

Her bright smile made his heart soar and he knew he had chosen well.  
Perhaps he could even convince her—hopefully—to abandon her preconceived notions of Prince Arthur, and to accept the fact that the warrior she liked and the royal she despised were _one and the same_.

But that would be down the road. Right now all he wanted was to resume reveling in the pleasure of her company for as long as he could.

"I have one request, however."

His voice sounded solemn but Finnabair could perceive the playfulness underneath.

"Do you, sire?"

"No more politics, please…" he grinned.

Her crystalline laugh came spontaneous and free, and Arthur concluded that he could definitely listen to that sound forever… It soothed his spirits like nothing ever had…

"Fair enough, milord. No more politics between us."

Remarkably, while cocooned in their own personal satisfaction with the developments of the day, each remained actually oblivious to the evident relief that the other also felt.

A thunder from the raging storm made them look outside. Finnabair sighed in disappointment and mused almost to herself.

"There goes our outing…"

Her slightly pursued lips caught Arthur's eyes and he had to make a huge effort not to kiss her adorable pout. Gods… he needed to stop his mind—and eyes—for wandering to her mouth or he _would_ kiss her regardless the consequences and the breach in protocol.

His gaze searched quickly for an alternate focus of attention so he could reign on his impulses.

There was a beautiful wooden chessboard near the other window, and the Prince reckoned that such intellectual occupation could be suitable to cool down his stirred up state of mind… and body.

"Would milady be interested in a game of chest then?"


	9. Chapter 9: A game of chess

SAME DISCLAIMER AS IN CHAPTER 1

A/N: These last two chapters were a necessary 'bridge' to the next part of the plot, and they were supposed to provide insight about the inner workings of the main characters.  
Once again, my beta reader is still on vacation, thus I apologize for any grammar errors that might have been overlooked.

Thank you very much for the kind reviews. :-)

* * *

_**9. A game of chess**_

"Tell me about your master"

Arthur had been so engrossed in the conversation that had almost forgotten the situation. He frowned and looked confused.

"My master?"—He scoffed—"I don't…" But he caught himself before finishing the sentence and cleared his throat to hide his faux pas.

"I do not…_ know_" he corrected, "why we should speak of him. After all, haven't we agreed on _no_ _politics_?"

Finnabair was about to acquiesce when she noticed a sly smile trying to curve Arthur's lips.  
Oh… now he was just being sneaky.

She donned her best innocent look.  
"We did, milord. However, I _had _shared information about the Princess. It is only fair, therefore, that you do the same about your prince… ___Quid pro quo_. Don't you think?"

Arthur shook his head grinning. She certainly had a way with words and was very skilled at cornering her interlocutor.  
_Very peculiar…_

"Well, my fair lady, it seems that your time in court has also taught you a trick or two…"

Finnabair reddened profusely, her earlier words thrown back at her, but anyway kept looking at him with a defiantly smile. Her eyebrows arched in warning.

"As a matter of fact, sire, it did. And if you do not answer, I _will _take your queen."

The Prince laughed lightheartedly when he noticed that his queen was indeed threatened.  
"Very well then; please spare my queen… What would you like to know?"

His attention turned to the board to try and save his position. One thing had been acting like a gentleman and allowing her to get some of his pawns and a bishop… He did not believe, though, that his chivalry needed to extend as far as to let her take his queen.

Not yet, at least.  
_Perhaps after a kiss…  
_His devious musings were halted by her voice.

"Well… For instance, _who_ is Arthur Pendragon?"

_Good question_.  
Did he actually know the answer?  
Something needed to be said, nonetheless, so he tried the first thing that came to mind.

"He is the Crown Prince of Camelot. Only heir to the throne."

Finnabair looked at him curiously at first and then burst into a laugh. "You are incredible, milord! Can't you tell me something I do _not_ know about Prince Arthur?"

After the initial embarrassment and consequent blush due to his lack of subtleness, the prince chuckled and relaxed a bit.

_Let's see…_ Maybe he could, actually.  
He moved closer over the table, as in confidence.

"He is afraid of dragons."

"Oh, milord…!" She admonished jokingly. "Now you are being wily on purpose… I do not believe that for a second! He defeated the last dragon himself. Or so they say…"

There was a longer than usual pause, and Finnabair bent her head awaiting his response. But Arthur had become abruptly serious and his voice markedly somber when he spoke.

"He did. He _had_ to…" He sighed. "But he was afraid."

In spite of her distrust towards the young Pendragon, this disclosure—which she took at face value—made her recoil at the thought of what the Prince and his knights had been through against the mythical monster. She could not help but to add in sympathy.

"Then he truly _is _a courageous warrior."

The Prince said nothing. The comment he had initially meant as a jest had unintentionally backfired, and he realized that the memory was still very disturbing.

It was as if a dark cloud had set over the previously bright conversation and Finnabair flinched. It had not been her intention to cause him distress, so before her partner became too taciturn, she quizzed on.

"What else?"

Arthur came back from his depressing recollections with another deep sigh. _What else was there?_

"What weapon he likes the best?" she helped.

"The sword." His quick reply told Finnabair that the change in topic had been welcomed.

"He is lethal with it." Arthur added unable to stop the bragging, and then winced internally at his bluntness. "I mean… he is very good with it."

"I see…" She observed him carefully. "And what kind of master is he?"

Now that was something that Arthur wasn't prepared to answer at all.  
How could he respond to _that_?

All of a sudden the entire affair of hiding his identity seemed like a pretty stupid idea. He tensely lowered his gaze and was about to tell her the truth when a soft hand grabbed his with a comforting caress. A jolt of electricity went through his body at the touch of her skin.

The shy boldness of her gesture made his barely settled impulses awaken once again. He even forgot the question and the intense discomfort that speaking of himself in third person caused him. Everything but _her_ dimmed into the background and he remained frozen, dizzy by the smell of jasmines, with his eyes fixed in those delicate fingers.

_Do you know what you are doing to me, milady? _

"Does he acknowledge you as a fellow human being or does his status get in the way?" Her voice was so soft and tender that hit a cord in his heart.

_Apparently not._

Later on, much later, Arthur would still ponder on that question. But for now he looked at the lady and covered her small hand, effectively trapping it within his callous, rough ones. He took a deep breath.

"I would like to think that he does." He smiled briefly. "He can be… temperamental at times."

The epithets '_arrogant_' and '_royal prat_' that Merlin had called him more than once echoed in his mind… But perhaps there was no need to disclose that.

He continued through a safer path.  
"His title can be a heavy burden at times." He paused and thought of his manservant. "I'd like to believe we are best friends above all."

Finnabair beamed and Arthur was certain that it was the most wonderful sight of this world, and even the others too. He also noticed she had not rescued her hand yet. Maybe if he continued talking she would not retreat.

"The Prince used to be what you could call a… spoiled brat," he explained with a teasing smile that earned him a similar one from his companion. "But he has been fortunate enough to surround himself with good friends. _Very_ good friends, as a matter of fact. He has learnt a great deal from them."

"Noble friends?" She asked genuinely curious.

"Not a single one of them, come to think of it…" His smile widened in amazement, as he realized the fact himself.

The lady felt the need to avoid his disturbingly magnetic eyes and chose to concentrate on the chessboard for a moment before whispering softly.

"That speaks very highly of him, actually."

Her genuine compliment took him off guard; he felt his cheeks warming and had to look down to hide the unintentional flush.

"He is not that bad…" He alleged softly. "He is just afraid of not living up to the expectations…"

"Of his father?"

He looked up again, his eyes now intense and impossibly blue.

"Of _Camelot. _Of his people."

The conclusiveness of the statement left no room for further questioning.

Finnabair swallowed hard and wished he wouldn't look at her like that. Or maybe she wished he'd never stopped. She finally rescued her hand and Arthur felt… cold.

The lady remained pensive for a moment and then tried a half smile.

"He does not sound so bad then."

"No, he does not." He grinned.

A full smile crowned her lips this time and Arthur almost lost touch with reality once again. Whatever awkwardness had developed between them the day before it was absolutely gone by now, and he couldn't be more pleased.

What was more, the Prince joyfully reckoned that at least a portion of Finnabair's contempt against his title and true identity had been put to rest on that raining morning, over a game of chess.

A game, by the way, which he would now gladly forfeit.


	10. Chapter 10: The Princess

SAME DISCLAIMER AS IN CHAPTER 1

Thank you so much for the nice reviews :-)

* * *

_**10. The Princess**_

It had been almost a week since they had arrived at Eleara and there was still no sign of the elusive royal of Leoness. Every morning Finnabair would diligently give the update on the Princess' slow recovery—with the corresponding heartfelt apology—to the envoys from Camelot.

Arthur had no complaints whatsoever since he had been fully enjoying the company of the Princess' lady in waiting. After a fairly rocky start, an engaging friendship seemed to have found its way. It was apparent that their initial agreement of '_no politics'_ had been tacitly extended to '_no personal information_' as well. And it was also apparent that they both were very comfortable with such arrangement. Neither one asked about personal details thus, by reciprocity, the other would not inquire either.

Most days they would leave in the morning and would only come back in time for supper. And no matter how much Merlin had probed, their trips and adventures had remained a solid mystery.

The poor wizard, on the other hand, was bored out of his wits. The first couple of days the Prince had forbidden him to venture outside their quarters lest someone would discover the farce. But as time went by, it was harder and harder for Arthur to continue enduring the complaints of his servant.

"_I won't wander around the castle, I promise_." Merlin had vehemently argued. "_I will stealthy come in and out and visit the village. No one would be the wiser, I assure you._"

All sorts of ideas had gone through Arthur's mind to try and shut up his servant. At the end, it was easier just to give in.

That particular morning, however, the Prince discovered that the trips to town had not been enough to keep Merlin off his back.

"Don't you think it is strange?" the warlock asked.

Arthur was occupied with the task of adjusting his belt and sword, in preparation to go riding with Finnabair yet once again.

"What is strange?"

"That the Princess has been sick all this time… I mean…Talk about a coincidence!"

Arthur dismissed the issue. "Maybe she is of poor health."

Merlin frowned. "And you don't mind?"

The Prince shrugged his shoulders. "Why would I? I am not planning to marry her anyways."

The warlock's eyes narrowed in disgust at the underlying inhumanity of the answer, and so Arthur hurried to clarify.

"That is not what I meant." He paused and looked for more appropriate words. "I am sorry she is not feeling well, but I cannot do anything about it. No one can hasten her recovery. And in any event, sooner or later we _will_ talk and agree on the course of action we should follow."

Merlin nodded, still thinking.

"So, let me get this straight… You do not find the Princess' continuous indisposition suspicious _and_ you essentially have no rush in meeting with her…_ Or_ that I meet with her on your behalf, correct?"

There was a cheeky smile in the Prince's face. "Your cleverness always surprises me Merlin."

"And you don't care about it because…?"

The question had an evident double meaning and Arthur looked at his friend in annoyance. Not bothering to respond, he turned towards the door instead.

"Why don't you just admit that you like Lady Finnabair, and that this trip may end up having a very different outcome from the one you had planned!"

The Prince stopped. "I don't know what you are talking about."

"Oh, come one… You've done nothing but to be with her every minute of the last days and you do not even care that time is running up!" The warlock was emphatic. "I've never seen you act like this with anyone… "

Arthur turned around with a warning look.

"And I'd known you for a long time Arthur."

The initial cautionary frown of the Prince morphed into a full menacing glare as he retraced his steps towards his servant.

"And in all this time you've known me…" He asked with a deceitful calm, "How many times have I share my personal dealings with you?"

It was actually a loaded question; one which Merlin did not have the heart to answer candidly. It was true that Arthur was extremely proud and definitely _not_ a feeling-sharing person. However, it was also true that the very few times he had been privy to the Prince's personal affairs, it had only been because the royal heart had been broken. But the warlock chose not to bring up those sad memories.

"You know what I mean…" was all he said instead.

There was such friendly honesty in Merlin's words that the Prince put his guard down. He was serious now.

"All right then, I admit it. She is quite an extraordinary person… and I really take pleasure in spending time with her." He sighed. "But most importantly, when I am with her I am not a prince but a simple person."

He marked his next words in a way that clearly precluded any argument in contrary.

"I have _never _enjoyed this indulgence, Merlin. I do not know what is going to happen when we have to return to Camelot, but I _will_ take this for as long as I can… "

There was a pause and Merlin smiled.  
"Nothing wrong with that, sire."  
_Just wanted to make sure that you knew what you are doing._

"I am glad you approve." The lighthearted sarcasm signaled the end of the conversation.

The Prince left, and the warlock went back to the chaise thinking he would leave his visit to town for tomorrow.

* * *

Amidst his serious concerns, Arthur was actually fuming. He should have _never_ listened to Finnabair, and he internally cursed his absolute inability to deny her anything.

It had been _her_ idea to wander so far east of the state. I had been _her_ idea to search for a mysterious spring, which they could not find anyway… And it had been _her_ idea to dismount and walk through the forest in search of some rare birds that inhabited the area. He had tried to talk her out of it to no avail.

Every one of his combat instincts—honed through years of harsh practice and extreme perils—had warned him that they should _not_ be doing that. But she had batted her long lashes, donned that wicked smile of hers, and he had been pudding on her hands.

_So much for the famed champion of Camelot_—he mentally scoffed—_trapped and at the mercy of some pitiful lowlifes._

After venturing too deep into the forest—and on foot, no less—they had come across four bandits who had looked even more shocked than they were. The thugs, however, used to hide and run from justice, had been better prepared for this type of unwelcome surprises and had reacted swiftly.

The ambush that followed had been the only possible outcome of the situation. But the worst part was that the thieves had apparently recognized Finnabair and saw the opportunity of an easy ransom.

"Let her go! You have a wrong person!" Arthur roared.

"I don't think so…" a toothless man smiled turning Finnabair by her hair to look at her face again.

The Prince tried unsuccessfully to free himself. He was keeling on the ground, securely held by two large men. He knew he could eventually take them out, but he feared for the lady. Any sudden movement and the dagger that was pointing at her delicate neck could do an irremediable damage.

"She is the Princess' lady in waiting!"

One of his captors laughed grotesquely. "What kind of idiot are you, lad? Don't you think we know Princess Gwynn?"

Arthur looked at Finnabair who had suddenly gone mute and had stopped fighting with her captor. Her eyes were sending a silent apology.

A myriad of emotions came to him at once and he swallowed hard.  
It could not be.  
She could _not_ be the Princess, could she?

Raw fear crept through his spine.  
If she was indeed the princess, then they were in _a lot_ of trouble.

"Do not mind him and let him go. He is no one." She unexpectedly spoke, almost derisively, but her eyes were fixed on Arthur's as if trying to tell him something.

The thugs laughed at her words. "Of course, your highness," one of the robbers holding Arthur sneered. "We will certainly let your pretty boy go."

"Silence, you lazy, pestilent idiots!" She bellowed with such cold and commanding tone that at that moment Arthur had no problem believing that she _was_, in fact, the Princess. "Who is to take the news to my Uncle and ask for the ransom? He would not believe any of you lowlifes!"

There was a momentary silence in the assailants' group. It was obvious that they had not thought that part through. Her sly shadow of a smile told Arthur she was probing them on purpose, and their lack of answer indicated that they were only petty thieves who just happened to bump into the possibility of a hefty ransom…

That was actually good news: the muggers were no professionals.  
Arthur nodded imperceptibly letting her know he understood.

However, although still under the confusion of the situation, another reflection came to him. Shouldn't she be scared and _he_ doing the rescuing? What was happening here? In any case, her royal voice interrupted his thoughts.

"You have not thought of that, have you?" She taunted. "How are you going to convince my uncle you have _me_ for real, unless an actual knight informs him about it? I do not mind Ruther wasting his moneys, but I have _no_ intention of spending time in your rotten camp any longer than necessary." She finished disdainfully.

The outlaws started murmuring among themselves and discussing the details of their evidently non-existing plan.

Arthur lifted an eyebrow. Now it was clear she was stalling, but for what?  
Her eyes went to her hands and—following her gaze—the Prince finally noticed what she had been doing.

The bandit holding the knife to her neck had her grabbed from the back, but her lower arms were somehow free. And inconspicuously, she had managed to pull a small and deadly stiletto from her sleeve.

The corners of his lips curved slightly in a cold, lethal grin.  
If she was carrying such sophisticated weapon, then she would obviously know how to use it. Time to act then.

"She is right!" he spoke, adding to the diversion. "I will ride to the castle and tell them you have their Princess."

The crooks snickered disgustingly.  
"Too much for a bodyguard, eh Princess?" one of them said. "He's ready to leave you at the first sign of trouble… You may be better off with common men like us folks…"

Another grotesque laugh reverberated in the quite forest.

Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, Arthur gave Finnabair the signal and in one swift movement she struck the thug who was holding her dead-on on his jugular.

The man released her automatically, grabbing his throat and chocking in his own blood. With another quick movement, she stole his sword and turned around to face the other villain next to her.

Meanwhile, Arthur had knocked one of his holders with a brutal kick on the stomach, and using the same momentum had turned the other over him. Less than a second later, the Prince was on his foot swirling his sword and ready to attack. This was going to be fun.

He was still shocked by the developments, though.  
_That little weasel had lied to him!_

Of course at no moment his indignation made room to acknowledge the fact that he had done _exactly_ the same thing. Instead, all he wanted right now was to give her a severe tongue lashing for putting them both in this situation. And he _would_ do just that, once he got rid of these two very sturdy and angry ruffians.

"Why didn't you tell me you were the Princess?" he shouted while blocking a strike.

"I had my reasons!" she yelled back while kicking her adversary in the groin.

Arthur was beyond furious and decided they were going to survive the attack so he could have the pleasure of breaking her beautiful neck himself.

He dispatched his opponents quickly and turned around to help her, only to find that it was unnecessary. She was doing quite well, he had to admit; _very_ well truth be told. The thug was clearly no match for her skills.

And then his eyes narrowed in attention.

The Princess was very quick on her feet despite her attire, and it was obvious that she was purposely delaying her inevitable final blow. Rather than fighting for her life, it seemed as if she was… _playing_ with her rough opponent like a cat would with a mouse…

Gods help him_… She was actually enjoying this!_

The bizarre image filled his chest with an exotic feeling. He could not discern exactly what, but amazement and… raw longing were certainly in the mix.

Finally, Gwynn—because it was she—knocked her opponent off his feet. She didn't deliver the deathblow, but let the panicked thief regain his footing.

The man took a quick look around and dropped his sword, his survival instincts kicking in. Turning on his heels, he jumped on the Princess' horse—which happened to be closer—and ran away disappearing in the forest.

Only then she turned around and her eyes locked on Arthur's, who had been following the scene in total fascination.

Until that moment, the Prince's resolve had been to remain angry… Unfortunately, he discovered that it would have been easier to stay that way if he hadn't been so absolutely captivated by her.

It might have been her tauntingly lethal smile… or perhaps the adrenaline still running high in his veins. Whatever it was, something clicked inside Arthur and in two strides he was in front of the lady.

With his sword still in his hand, his other arm snaked around her brief waist crushing her body against his chest. Impenetrable dark blue eyes held the startled green ones for a mere second before he claimed her mouth, kissing her furiously.


	11. Chapter 11: Not quite…

SAME DISCLAIMER AS IN CHAPTER 1

Thanks very much to my great beta Krause, who is finally back from vacation and so everything is right in the universe again ;-)

Also thank you all for the nice reviews, and special thanks to Nesota for a wonderful and encouraging e-mail. :-)

On with the story...

* * *

_**11. Not quite… **_

A pained whimper sifted through Arthur's clouded brain and he broke the kiss realizing that the hilt of his sword—still in his hand—was puncturing the lady's back. It seemed that in his frenzy he had embraced her completely.

He softened his hold and rested his forehead on hers. This was madness…

Swallowing hard, it took him a moment to find his voice.  
"_Never_ scare me like that again!"

Gwynn was in complete daze. Whatever had prompted this man to kiss her like that, she was only hoping he'd do that again. Unfortunately, he seemed to have other ideas at the moment.

"We need to go now."

The authority in his voice left no room for debate and she only nodded in answer.  
Firmly holding her hand, the Prince moved hastily to find his horse and pondered his saddle for a moment. It was probably going be better to remove it. The horse would be lighter and faster.

"Can you mount without a saddle?"

Another nod was the only reply he got. Arthur wondered briefly about her sudden lack of words, but pushed it back without further regard. They needed to get moving.

After quickly removing the sit, he lifted the Princess onto the horse's back and jumped behind her, spurring the animal into a wild race. Only when they were well within the familiar borders of Eleara, the Prince allowed his mount to settle into a gentler trot and breathed in relief. They were safe.

Up until that moment, Arthur had been in warrior mode. Driven and focused, his mission to get them both to safety. But as soon as they crossed the limits of the state, the entire situation came down on him. From the knowledge that she was indeed _his_ _intended_, to the fact that he had kissed her in a rapture of passion he did not even know he was capable of._ And_, that she had kissed him back with total abandon.

He could not fathom what had prompted him to do that. On moment he was angry with her, very angry. The next, he was kissing her without a thought of decorum, and—what was even worse—in a middle of an unknown forest where they had been ambushed only a moment ago.

_What had he been thinking?  
_Perhaps that was it. He had_ not_ been thinking.

He retraced the events in his mind trying to find a suitable explanation for his reaction, to little avail. He shook his head in bafflement: he was a warrior first and foremost, and he had survived incredible perils thanks to his discipline and never-failing self-control. But the truth was that when she had turned around victorious and exhilarated from the fight, he had been simply unable to stop himself. That treacherous, bewitching… impossible smile of hers was undoubtedly to blame.

The memory was doing things to his body again. He'd better stop this line of thoughts until he could regain his footing. Although by the way things had progressed back there, and judging by her previous response, he doubted he would be able to do that any time soon.

To make matters worse, her hair was tickling his jaw and her pervasive perfume of jasmine was attacking his senses unrelentingly. He cursed his fate.  
How was he supposed to concentrate on the road like this?  
Surely the gods were penalizing him for something.

He was in turmoil.  
She was Princess Gwynn. _His_ princess. The one he had vowed _not_ to marry; the one he had _no interest_ to even meet until a couple of hours ago…

And she was also Finnabair; the lady who could make him laugh like a child again, the impetuous female that could unhinge him like no other living soul could. The one who had awakened feelings he had thought dead in his heart.

Could he dare to hope?

He tightened the embrace unconsciously and then stiffened waiting for her reaction. But she snuggled comfortably in his arms, resting her head in the crook of his neck as if it were the most normal thing of the world.

The Prince's lips curved in a little smile. It was settled then…

Meanwhile Gwynn was still reeling from the kiss. She could not get her senses to emerge from the memory of him. His lips, his arms, his smell… She had never experienced, possibly not even imagined, something like that. And when his arms circled her tighter, the butterflies in her stomach fluttered again and an instinctive need to be closer to him made her rest fully on his chest. Her title and his status be damned… being with him like this just felt… _natural_.

She would worry about the consequences later. Right now she would simply enjoy the ride, literally and metaphorically.

Once the thrill had passed, however, the aftermath of the adrenaline rush from the fight—_and from the earth-shattering kiss_, she reasoned—had left her unusually weak and drowsy. The gentle canter of their mount was lulling her, and soon she fell into a conformable slumber in her Knight's secure arms.

When Arthur noticed her sleep, he tightened his arms even more to prevent her slump form from bouncing too much. His smile widened while he breathed into her hair.

In spite of everything, or perhaps _because_ of everything, he could not remember when was the last time he had felt so happy and at peace. And even though he had definitely not expected it, it would seem that somehow things _were_ miraculously falling into place. Could he be this lucky after all?

They finally arrived at the castle and—giving into yet another impulse—Arthur kissed her temple, softly waking her up. The intimacy of the moment quickened his pulse again.

"Princess… "

Her eyelids fluttered open and he could see the clouds of the dream leaving her eyes as reality was settling in. She did not speak but flushed adorably under his stare, the memory of what they had shared coming back to her.

"We have arrived."

She nodded and straightened up; goose bumps covered her skin at the loss of his warmth. The Prince dismounted and helped her down, but his hands remained on her waist much longer than etiquette accepted, waiting for her to indicate the inadequacy of the gesture. To his surprise, however, she did not retreat and kept looking at him with hooded eyes.

Arthur smiled wickedly, her enthrallment not lost to him. It also downed on the Prince that Finnabair—or Gwynn, whatever her name was—had not spoken _at all_ ever since the fight. It was actually a very rare occurrence, as this opinionated lady usually had a hard time reigning on her tongue.

"We need to talk." He whispered.

She finally found her voice. It sounded unusually low and raspy.

"We shall, milord. Tomorrow, if you do not mind."

"Of course, Princess." Truth be told, Arthur also welcomed the hiatus to settle his thoughts… and calm his body while he was at it.

"Until then, my lord."

But before she turned, he reached out and softly kissed her hand looking roguishly into her eyes. His intense gaze was sending an unspoken promise and her cheeks colored crimson red. She almost ran from the courtyard leaving Arthur with his impish smile and yet a dreamy expression in his eyes.

* * *

"Are you telling me that lady Finnabair _is_ Princess Gwynn?" Merlin was beside himself with puzzlement.

"I know…" Arthur chuckled drinking from his cup "It is quite peculiar the way things had developed…"

The disclosure had come over dinner, and the warlock feared he would have a hard time digesting the food as it came served with this unsettling—to put it mildly—news. His intuition was telling him there could be trouble in the works. His master had evidently chosen to minimize the issue, but the warlock did not find the situation necessarily humorous.

"I don't think that _peculiar_ begins to describe it…"

"What do you mean?"

One look at Arthur's besotted expression and Merlin realized that he would have to explain the situation preferably using small words.

"What do I mean? Oh… I don't know… Let me see… you _both_ came here with the sole purpose of preventing the arranged marriage. Instead of doing so, however, you _both_ decided to play make-believe for a while … Oh! Let us add to the mix the fact that the game backfired and you're actually falling for each other, which would be all good and dandy except for the tiny detail that you _BOTH lied_ to each other!"

The Prince's eyes had been narrowing progressively during his servant diatribe. His momentary infatuation forgotten, he had to admit that Merlin certainly had his points. There was no need to openly acknowledge it, but he should at least consider them.

He lifted an eyebrow. "Are you done?"

But Merlin was still brooding. "Not really… I think you are taking this whole affair a bit _too lightly_."

It was actually amusing for Arthur the vehement way in which Merlin had been admonishing him. The memory of Gwynn's response to his kiss, though, curved his lips into a cocky smile.

"I have my reasons…"

"And what did she say when you told her who you were?"

Okay, maybe not _that_ amusing. The Prince had almost forgotten that _small_ detail. He trained his eyes on his cup and his jaw tightened.

When he did not answer, Merlin pressed on. "Arthur… does she _know_ you're the Prince?"

"Not quite…"

"_Not quite?_ You haven't told her yet?"

"Is not that simple Merlin…"

The exuberant reaction from his servant came back once more.  
"What is not that simple? You just say 'I _am_ Prince Arthur'… It's quite simple really… Why didn't you…"

The Prince interrupted him. "_Because_… She despises the Royal House of Pendragon, me included…"

"Oh…"

"Yes… _Oh." _Arthur mimicked mordantly.

Merlin thought for an instant.  
"But it can't be that bad now… You are still _you_… The person she met, I mean… That should account for something, shouldn't it?"

"I hope so."

"And why does she despise you so?"

Arthur recounted the events of Ascetir and the fate of Finnabair's friends. The warlock was silent for another moment and then reasoned.

"To tell you the truth, it does not sound like a motive to resent you so much… I mean, those were unfortunate casualties of war… I am sure she is aware that in those situations there is always… collateral damage, so to speak." Pause. "Are you sure you are not reading too much into it?"

"I don't think so." The Prince got up. He did not want to go over that subject again as he had already berated himself for countless hours on its account. He sighed running his hand through his hair. "I believe she has only forgiven me because she thinks I was a warrior following orders."

Merlin was baffled. "But you _WERE_ a warrior following orders! They were your father's orders and Morgana's safety was at stake. I am sure she'd understand that."

For some reason, Arthur's anxiety had been growing along with the progress of the conversation. As much as he loathed admitting it, his friend had some very valid and strong points. Amidst his excitement, he had not thought much about the actual circumstances; but perhaps founding a relation on false pretenses could be, in fact, something to be concerned about.

He didn't even realize he was voicing his fears until the words were out.  
"What if she doesn't?"

The warlock grew suspicious at the way his mater's demeanor had changed and worried about the cause. Why would the Prince care after all?

"Well then… so be it." Merlin shrugged his shoulders. "In any event, you don't want to marry her anyway …"

The Prince moved towards his room, and the lack of answer put his servant definitely on guard.  
"Arthur?"

Not a word again, and Merlin finally fathomed the reason beyond any doubt. He hated it when his instincts had been right... It usually happened in situations like this, where the outcome was unknown and—more often than not—potentially bad.

"You _DO_ want to marry her now?"

Arthur shook his head, clearing up his mind and turned around from the threshold of his room.  
"No! I mean… Maybe… I… I just do not know."

"What are you going to do then?"

"I will talk to her tomorrow."

"Are you going to tell her the truth?"

"Probably."

"Probably? Arthur, you _have _to tell her the truth! "

What the Prince wanted right now was to be left alone. He recognized that Merlin was right, but he had enough in his mind to think about. He was tired after the events of the day, and his servant's rant and blown up outbursts were starting to get on his nerves.

"I'd said _probably_, Merlin. Now shut up and go to sleep."

"But…"

That was enough. Trying to plan his next course of action was _not_ going to be possible with Merlin buzzing around him like a fly. Arthur snapped.

"I swear if I hear one more word from you, you'll be mucking my horses for the rest of your life, and you'll be spending the next one in the stocks!"

"Hey! Don't blame _me_ for the convoluted situations you get yourself in…"

The glare from the Prince finally silenced Merlin. He knew that look very well. Again, it came down to the always safe '_shut-up-and-hope-for-the-best'_.

"Good night, sire."


	12. Chapter 12: What's in a name?

SAME DISCLAIMER AS IN CHAPTER 1

Thanks very much to Krause for betaing my work :-)

Also thank you all for the nice reviews. They are much appreciated.

* * *

_**12. What's in a name?**_

Gwynn could tell Helene was sulking just by the way she was combing her hair. The habitual gentle touch her maid used when dealing with her long tresses had mutated into purposeful brush strikes that the Princess was feeling all the way to her roots.

"It's alright, Helene. I know you are upset. You can tell me."

The lady in waiting looked at her mistress through the mirror with an admonishing glare. "You should know better than to venture so far from the state as you did yesterday. I cannot believe Sir Merlin was reckless enough to allow you to do that."

Gwynn let out a small chuckle. "It was not his fault, really. And he did try to talk me out of it more times than I care to count."

Smiling, she turned to face her maid and friend. "If it makes you feel any better, he was very angry with me when we were ambushed and he discovered I was the Princess…"

"I could have told you that, if you had listened… I still do not understand this idea of yours of hiding your identity. "

"We've talked about that already…"

"Yes, we have… "Helene did not want to go over that discussion again as it was now a moot point. It was better to change subjects.

"So, are you going to finally meet the Prince or not?"

The Princess turned back to the mirror. "I am not sure yet. I must speak with Sir Merlin first."

Helene's eyebrows rose in surprise while resuming the brushing. "And are you sure he still wants to talk to you after the events of yesterday?"

Gwynn grinned remembering the longing in the knight's blue eyes when they had parted the previous evening.  
"Oh… I think he does."  
Then she blushed thoroughly.

The maid's eyes narrowed but she knew that her stubborn mistress would only disclose what she wanted, and she had been quite secretive about this mysterious knight. Then again, she had known her for many years and could clearly tell that Gwynn was beyond smitten.

Helene could not help but to admire and pity the knight. He certainly had to be a very special gentleman to have caught the Princess' attention with such strong hold, but she also knew—as well as the Princess did—that there was no way Ruther would allow this relation to prosper.

Moreover, and just like her mistress, Helene too feared that if the Steward of Leoness caught wind that a mere soldier, no less, had put his plans at risk, the knight's life would be in extreme danger.

She marveled at the way her charge had allowed herself to enjoy the knight's company while being aware of all these circumstances, and wondered for how long the Princess would be able to do so. In any case, there were more pressing issues at hand and she tried another avenue.

"Gwynn… I know you like this gentleman. But you need to get back to the real world and convince Prince Arthur that you can't marry him. Otherwise…"

The Princess interrupted her, nodding in agreement, and her voice became slightly somber. "I know, Helene… I know."

After a pause, however, Gwynn continued with a light tone again.  
"I believe Sir Merlin could help me with that… I've been thinking that if I explain to him the reasons why I can't marry a Pendragon, I am positive he would find a way to convince the Prince to reject my uncle's offer. They _are_ best friends after all…"

Helene still had some doubts. "And you trust Sir Merlin enough…"

The love-struck smile in her mistress' face did little to appease her concerns. Nevertheless, the Princess was adamant in her answer.

"I trust him _completely_."

Well then, the maid knew better than to try and talk the Princess out of if. Besides, she recognized that the plan had some logic… more logic, for starters, than the obtuse idea of hiding identities. She was glad she would at least be allowed to leave their quarters for a change, after almost a week of being pretty much captive inside.

Perhaps she was worrying too much. After all, if the Princess had such faith in the knight, she should trust her mistress' judgment.

"All right… if you say so. Do you want your hair braided today?"

"Not really…" A soft flush colored the Princess' cheeks at the memory of something Sir Merlin had said about her hair.

* * *

Arthur had been waiting at their usual spot in the courtyard for a while now. He had woken up early again after a very bad night.

He'd had trouble falling asleep in spite of his exhaustion and he blamed it entirely on Merlin. He knew that everything his friend had said was true, but that had been precisely what'd had him tossing around in his bed for countless hours, unsuccessfully trying to rest.

At least he had come to some conclusions, which had not been easy since part of him was still mad at her... Although the reason he was angry—admittedly—was exactly what was worrying him: the mutual lies... She had come clean, even if by accident, so it was only appropriate that he'd do the same.

Thus, he would look for a good opening and—praying to the higher powers for a merciful acceptance on her part—he would tell her the truth. He just needed to figure out exactly how and when… and possibly check her sleeves for concealed weapons; but with any luck the opportunity would present itself.

Her voice brought him out of his reflections.  
"Good morning my lord."

She looked so radiant that the memory of her lips instantly commandeered his brain… and some other parts of his anatomy. The Prince tensed; he'd better reigned on his unruly instincts or he would be repeating his actions even before he could apologize for them.

"Good morning Princess."

He noticed her hair was not braided and remembered he had mentioned something about it days past. Was she perhaps hinting that she would be willing to consider his preferences?  
That would certainly mean that…

Her voice interrupted his wandering thoughts soon enough.  
"It seems that I am without a horse and you without a saddle sire." She teased.

"It appears so, my lady. If only someone would have listened to me yesterday…"

She blushed, a little embarrassed, but did not express much regret.  
"You are not going to let me forget it, are you?"

Arthur noticed the lack of a formal apology and smiled amused. So be it…  
"Not in the near future." He winked.

She chuckled softly.  
"Well then, perhaps I can bribe you with a new saddle…"

He straightened in a resolutely proud stance.  
"I am incorruptible, my lady."

"So you say…" She absently stated while looking over his shoulder and the Prince turned his head to see what had caught her attention.

The stable boy was coming over with two horses; his own had a new saddle, and a beautiful one at that. The craftsmanship was superb. Much more sophisticated than his previous, worn-out one.

Gwynn observed him with interest—and a badly concealed, impish smile—while he carefully examined the wonderful piece.  
He loved it… and she knew it. He grinned.

"Maybe a _tad_ corruptible, Princess. This saddle is certainly a masterpiece."

"I am glad you approve, my lord. Please accept it as a token of Leoness' gratitude and as a small compensation for your loss…and… _other_ _inconveniences_."

That was possibly the closer to an apology he was going to get, and Arthur had to bite his inner cheek to prevent him from laughing. He had to concede that there was an unusual similarity between her style to express regret and his own; and he wondered whether this was one of the reasons why he could not be mad at her for more than a moment. She was definitely something else…

"I will cherish your gift forever." He bowed, beaming. "Thank you, Princess..." And he remembered, "Is it Princess Gwynn or Princess Finnabair…?"

"Actually, my lord, both."

She seemed serious, but Arthur narrowed his eyes in warningly amusement.  
"Is this another one of your games Princess?"

"No Sir, I assure you it's the truth." She laughed at his choice of words, but explained promptly. "_Finnabair_ is the name my mother gave me in her forefathers' tongue. It was my great-great-grandmother's name. I believed that in the language of my father's kingdom it would be translated as _Gwenhwyfar_. However my brother, who was still a child when I was born, could not pronounce it correctly and changed it to _Gwynn_." (*)

There was a pause and for a brief moment some bittersweet memories shone in her eyes. "I was thereafter known as Princess Gwynn." She finished with an ample smile.

Arthur nodded and could not help but to smile in amazement at the likeness of the lady's name with that of his former love. Oddly coincidental in truth; his next words were mostly directed to himself.  
"And yet another interesting turn of events with you, my lady."

They had mounted already when she asked playfully. "Would you care waging a race to the river my lord?"

Even though he was not one to ever refuse a wager, the Prince had had enough excitement the day before, and was actually looking forward to a more relaxed and quiet outing today. The last thing he needed was more adrenaline, particularly if he was to be alone with her.

If he'd learned anything from the events of the previous day was that he could not fully trust his self-control when she was around. Not to mention that he had every intention to make the amends that the code of honor dictated… and also to disclose his title... The latter more difficult than the former.

"Honestly, milady? I would rather not… I was hoping we could talk instead?"

Gwynn was afraid he would say that. She knew they _should _talk, and she promised herself they _would_. However, before her title—and his lack of one—got definitely in the way of their friendship and blossoming attraction, she desperately wanted to enjoy his company for a while longer just like it was before: effortless and unadulterated.

And she knew exactly how to persuade him.  
"Oh, come one… This horse is actually slower than the one I had yesterday so you have a much-needed advantage… Although I believe it can still shame yours." She challenged.

Her daring smile effectively got to him.  
"You really need to learn to control your tongue, my lady." He answered with intent.

Either she did not understand the veiled threat, or chose to dismiss it.  
_Not surprises there_.  
The Prince's thoughts were cut short when she spoke again.

"On the count of three then…"

He nodded and focused his attention on the road.  
_You will learn not to play with me, Princess…_

"One… "

Arthur prepared. He would beat her just to teach her a lesson. A devilish smiled played on his lips while he thought of the prize he would claim afterwards.

"Three!"

Gwynn spurred her horse at full speed and left Arthur _literally_ biting her dust and completely outraged.

* * *

(*) This is actually true, I believe. Apparently, Finnabair existed in Irish mythology and the name is etymologically related to Gwenhwyfar, which is the Welsh original of Guinevere. (Wikipedia)


	13. Chapter 13: The Prince

SAME DISCLAIMER AS IN CHAPTER 1

Thank you very much for the nice reviews.  
They are much appreciated as they help to keep the ideas flowing :-)

* * *

_**13. The Prince**_

Momentarily dumfounded by her cheekiness, Arthur quickly recovered from the surprise and cursing her antics for the second time in less than two days, ran after her like the devil. His initial indignation gave room to plain amusement when he internally admitted that she surely was the most unpredictable person he'd ever met.

After all the time they had spent together, the pattern behind her actions had remained a mystery to him; and he could not recall, in all honestly, a single moment when she had said or done anything that was remotely along the lines of what he had expected… The worst part—he owned up while spurring his horse forward—was that far from deeming this quality discouraging, he actually found it more than enthralling.

She was an excellent rider; the Prince had to give her that. But he was better—or more determined at the moment at least—and at the end he caught up with her and stopped her horse. They were both laughing hard, energized by the race.

"You cheated!" He accused while getting her down from her mount.

"I most certainly did not! I am just bad at counting…"  
Another burst of laugh engulfed them.

Arthur set her down but did not let go of her, nor stepped away; his hands rested gallantly on her waist just like the evening before. And just like then, she did not retreat.

_Excellent. _He would claim his prize in that case.  
She looked lovely with her hair all tousled by the wind. 'Edible' was another endearment that had frequently come to his mind when being this close to her. After having tasted her lips, however, the term had acquired an entirely new and tempting meaning...

"I thought Princesses did not cheat" He mused grabbing a strand of her rebel hair and moving it behind her ear, finally indulging in what he'd been wanting to do from the day they'd met.

"That it is such common and unfounded rumor..." His tender touch had sent chills trough her spine and she felt the need to break the spell in order to recover her wits. She had also thought of retreating, but at the moment her legs were disconnected from her brain.

Arthur let out another hearty laugh and Gwynn became acutely aware of how the sound seemed to grow from the depths of his chest, reverberating through the air and reaching her ears like a bracing breeze. It was like an invisible caress that had the power to calm the anxiety his proximity created.

"I like it when you laugh." Her words came out abruptly, without her consent.

Arthur sobered up and brought her hands to his chest. "My lady, _you_ _have _given me back my laugh, and for that I will be eternally indebted to you." He looked up to the sky searching for words and inhaled deeply. "I… have laughed more times ever since I met you than I had in a _very_" he stressed, "long time".

Gwynn's cheeks colored furiously under his gaze, yet she held her ground… and his eyes. Her nearness and newfound boldness were a dangerous combination. And now it was Arthur who decided that a change in subject was perhaps required so he could regain his footing.

Trying to avoid deviating too much from his plans, he thought of starting by making amends for his improper assault to her lips the day before. Appalled and amused at the same time, the Prince discovered that he was actually looking forward to doing so all over again.

_And soon…_

Nevertheless, and despite his inexcusable lack of regret, his royal education demanded for the breach in protocol to be mended.

"We never spoke about what happened in the forest." His eyes were now serious.

Still blushing, she looked down this time. "You mean… my wonderful display of battle skills?"

Arthur chuckled. She was being evasive.  
Would that mean she would rather not talk about it, or was she simply embarrassed? Trying to understand this woman was certainly becoming a full time job … not that he minded, of course.

"That too. Very impressive." He grabbed her chin and made her look at him. "I meant my actions afterwards."

"You took us to safety, my lord. I should thank you…" Her eyes were imploring. That much he knew.

And it was indeed thus. Gwynn was silently pleading him _not_ to apologize for the kiss, or for whatever contravention in propriety he was most likely imagining. She was convinced that her title was to blame, and that the matter would be of lesser consequences had she continued to be Finnabair…

Oh… how much she wished that none of this were happening… Not like this, at least.

She'd done everything she could to forestall this conversation. Luring him into a race and firing up his temper with her childish trick had been part of the plan, which had partially worked. Apparently, though, her honorable knight was set in his ways. She had to stop this for good.

"Princess…"

"Thank you. _My lord_." She stressed backing up and turning around towards the river. Arthur sighed; it was quite clear that she did not want to discuss the matter.

All right, moving into the next item in his personal agenda, the Prince figured he could try and explore the opportunity to discuss his identity; if possible, without physical damage to his person.

_I should have searched her sleeves, though…_

Perhaps a tangential approach would be a safe start.  
"Now then, are you ready to meet Prince Arthur at last?"

She missed his teasing tone and remained silent, looking at the river.

"Princess?"

"I guess I should." Gwynn sighed, still a little detached.

He scoffed. "You really don't look too excited, my lady"

"Why should I?" Her tone became colder than intended, and so she tried to continue in a softer one, "It is not like I am going to marry him anyways…"

Arthur approached her smiling mischievously.  
"Are you sure about that?"

Absolutely oblivious of the underlying significance of the question, Gwynn looked at him like he had grown two heads.  
"Of course I am sure, my lord."

The Prince felt great. _Elated_, in fact.

According to him, the only plausible explanation for her confident statement was that she had truly grown fond of the simple knight he had been impersonating, and therefore would not contemplate courting someone else.

He donned his most charming smile and grabbed her hand again.  
"Would this decision have something to do with a certain knight that had… stricken your fancy?"

She chuckled bitterly and enveloped his hand between her cold ones in a gesture so intimate that the Prince felt his pulse instantly racing. Her words, however, were not what he had expected.

"My dear Sir… It has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with him."

That was certainly a cryptic answer, not to mention a quite disheartening one. Arthur narrowed his eyes and could not help the acrid comment.

"You certainly know how to flatter, Princess."

She freed his hand and moved some steps away, ashamed of having hurt his feelings. Her sad tone spoke volumes of her sorrow.

"I am not a child, my lord. I have always known that my title and circumstances will prevent me for marrying out of love."

She turned bright green eyes to him and the truth came crashing down on Arthur knocking the air out of his lungs: now she was _indeed_ speaking of him. He realized, moreover, that for all she knew he did not have a sufficiently high nobility title, which clearly posed an insurmountable obstacle for their relation. In her view, of course…

He swallowed hard. She'd said _love_…

In spite of the inner commotion her words had caused, he tried to focus back in the conversation.  
"I do not understand then… Why wouldn't you give the Prince a chance…"

Gwynn shook his head. "I cannot."

_Great. Same answer as usual.  
_Things were certainly not progressing as the Prince had hoped, so it was probably time for a more direct approach. Before he could say anything, however, Gwynn turned around with her most wicked smile, disturbing him once again.

"Are you good at keeping secrets?"

His eyebrow rose in surprise. What was that about?

"I meant," she explained, "Can you keep a secret Sir?"

_What sort of game are you playing now? _On second thought, he _had_ proven to be very good at keeping his own identity secret, so…  
"As a matter of fact I can."

"Good. I have a very important secret to tell you."

"Aren't you full of surprises Princess?" He joked lacing his fingers with hers one more time.

She blushed profusely and tried to rescue her hand, but Arthur would not have any of it and did not let go.

"All right then…" He soothed her, pausing to intimately kiss her knuckles and turning her knees into jelly in the process. "Since we are confiding in each other, I have a secret on my own…"

His eyes were tantalizing. The playful light shining in the surface barely masked the unmistakable zeal that was looming in the blue depths.

She should tell him not to look at her like that. It troubled her to no end.  
She should probably back up a bit too, if only her legs would obey.

"Do you now?" She swallowed with effort through her suddenly parched throat.

He nodded. His eyes keeping their inexorable hold on hers.

She asked, not louder than a whisper.  
"Would you tell me your secret?"

He took a step forward.  
"Only if you tell me yours."

They were too close and she found it hard to breathe.  
"You first…"

"Ladies first."

"I asked you…" She pleaded.

"Knight's Honor" He grinned bringing his hand still entwined with hers over his heart. "Ladies first," he insisted.

The strong beating of his heart startled Gwynn and a flush of arousal covered her face while she momentarily forgot what they had been talking.

_Oh… yes, secrets._

She pouted in defeat at his stubbornness and Arthur finally gave into the wild impulse to kiss her. It was high time to claim his prize.

He would eventually apologize… or not. Nevertheless, by now she should know better than to tempt him like that….

Before he could reach for her mouth, though, her lips had already changed into a sly smile.  
"I am _commanding_ you to tell me your secret, my lord"

He looked outraged and stepped back a bit.  
"That is cheating for a second time!" He protested. "You are pulling rank!"

She smiled smugly, seemingly satisfied with her trap, and did not yield. Arthur sighed; this was probably the best opportunity he would get.

_I hope you are ready, my lady…_

He looked at her thoughtfully for a long while before answering.  
"Very well. Let this be known as the _last time_ you would pull rank on_ me_…_"_

Without further ado, he took off the ring he was wearing on his left hand and offered it to Gwynn, showing her the inscriptions in the inside.

Initially puzzled, the Princess simply grabbed the ring and followed his lead. While looking carefully at the engravings, however, her face began to lose all its colors. She kept glancing back and forth from the ring to his mesmerizing eyes, which were now full of anticipation.

It couldn't be…  
Still unconvinced and hoping against hope that it were _not_ so, she studied the ring in more detail… Dragons…  
"No…" she whimpered in despair.

He was nodding, an expectant smile curving his sensuous lips.  
"You…" She chocked." You _are_ Prince Arthur…"

He put his ring back on his index finger and took an overly dramatic bow.  
"Forever at your service, my fair Princess," and tried to kiss her hand.

But she retrieved it immediately as if his touch had burnt her and started to retreat. Her face was a mask of terror.

"No!" She cried backing up.

The Prince felt as if someone had dumped a bucket of icy cold water on top of him. He had been certainly expecting her anger, but _never_ her fear.

"Princess?" He called completely baffled and unsure of what was going on.

But she was already searching for her horse, shaking her head. Arthur thought he might have even heard a sob. Was she crying? What was happening here?

"Gwynn…"

And then—just to prove that he could _never_ anticipate the actions of this woman—she scared his horse away and mounted hers with an agility that contradicted her clothing. A second later she galloped away.

"Finnabair, No!" He yelled to no avail. She was long gone.

Arthur felt trapped in hell.  
That little she-devil had left him stranded without his mount, and might have very well forced him to walk all the way back to the castle!

Oh… When he'd see her again…

Fortunately for him, his gentle horse had not wandered too far. He could not catch her since she had a good head start on him—_obviously her intention_, he angrily reasoned—but he'd eventually find her in the castle.

And they _would_ talk.  
By the gods, this time they _would_!


	14. Chapter 14: A horrifying thought…

SAME DISCLAIMER AS IN CHAPTER 1

Thanks to Krause for the continue beta help and support.  
And thanks much for the nice reviews and encouragement :-)

* * *

_**14. A horrifying thought…**_

Merlin woke up in empty quarters and gathered that Arthur was already gone for the day. In spite of the slightly nagging sensation left by the discussion of the previous night, he was essentially feeling great. No surprises there, he reasoned. He had not been working at all, had slept quite a lot, and had been eating like… a pig, maybe even a wild boar.

Speaking of eating, breakfast was already served and apparently his master had barely touched it. The wizard pondered the current situation while chewing on the freshly baked bread.

It was a known fact that the Prince had a knack for getting into the strangest situations whether by accident, fate… or plain bad judgment like in this case. Nevertheless, they—because Merlin had _always_ been there to save the royal behind—had survived every one of them.

From that standpoint, therefore, he figured that there was probably no reason to worry too much about this one either.

While attacking the berries, he moved his wonderings towards the Princess. It was another known fact that catching Arthur's attention was not hard—if one wore dresses of course—_maintaining _said attention, however, was a whole different game.

And it was clear to Merlin that this enigmatic Princess had managed to do just that. He hadn't seen Arthur taken like this by anyone since… well, _never_.

He did not know what could be _so_ special about this lady to make Arthur actually consider abandoning his self-imposed eternal bachelor status—at least going by what the Prince had said, or rather had _not_ said the night before—but the warlock found his curiosity picked. He was truly looking forward to meeting this lady.

The mental exercise of organizing his thoughts had finally put Merlin's mind completely at ease and he devoted himself to enjoy the bounty of delicatessens that—like every day without a fault throughout their visit—had been brought to them. This 'leave of absence' of his duties as Arthur had called it, was something he could really get used to.

Although he missed Camelot and his friends, he was enjoying very much being pampered and he knew that such luxury would inexorably end back home. Thus, he imagined it was a fair trade-off for the moment.

What would he do today?

The young warlock considered his options. He had been in the village so many times by now, that he didn't believe there was a corner he hadn't already visited. The castle, on the other hand, was still uncharted territory for him.

Up until now, Arthur had prohibited him to walk around the state, and had been loudly explicit in his orders… and threats. Today, however, the Prince hadn't mentioned anything—the fact that they had not seen each other could be undoubtedly one reason—but nonetheless it could also be argued that, _theoretically,_ he was free to do as he pleased… Right?

_Right. _

The warlock knew very well that his master would probably have a thing or two to say about this 'theory', but since he was not there, Merlin decided he would take the risk. After all, he reasoned, it was _because_ of Arthur's childish charade that he'd only seen the main building from inside their quarters, and from the distant village.

He would be careful, of course. He had no interest of being at the receiving end of the Prince's wrath should someone discover his wanderings; but he would venture in the castle and the gardens to get acquainted with the surroundings before they had to leave.

Yes. That was a good plan.

* * *

For a couple of hours Merlin enjoyed the colorful and carefully manicured gardens of the state, as well as some very interesting rooms. The library was particularly inviting, with its ancient manuscripts and maps, a big fireplace, and a wonderful view of the gardens. He liked the smell of old books.

Browsing through the collection of rolls and heavy leather-bounded books, the warlock realized that many were written in a language with which he was not familiar.

_Where was Gaius when you needed him?_

Merlin was willing to bet that the old physician could read these manuscripts too…  
Maybe he would ask him about it.

He then moved into a larger, mostly empty room that could have been an old throne room, though there was no throne in sight. There was, however, a massive round table with strange inscriptions in a language similar to the one in the old manuscripts. He wondered about the use of the table since it did not seem fit for dining.  
Quite interesting indeed…

Later, he walked into the dimly lit portrait room. At least it should be called as such, being that all the walls were filled with portraits. Very heavy curtains covered the windows, and the wizard surmised that it was most likely to protect the paints.

He moved one of the large fabric panels to allow more light inside and was able to clearly see the extensive assortment of paintings crowding the walls. Merlin figured that the Princess' royal house must have had a fairly long-standing history, as some of the pictures were obviously very aged and quite faded. In any case, a strong family resemblance could still be observed in most of them.

Two particular paintings caught his attention.

_So… that was the Princess…_

Merlin smiled smugly at his discovery.  
He did not need Arthur to describe his lady anymore. He had recognized her beyond any doubt.

His master had purposely omitted—simply to aggravate him in the warlock's opinion—which of the two ladies they had seen in the courtyard on the day of their arrival was Finnabair… Or rather: the Princess, according to the latest developments.  
But now Merlin knew.

The two canvases that had caught the wizard's eye were portraits of two ladies. The differences in clothing fashion, as well as the distinctive degree of fading of each one, indicated that they were at least from two, possibly even three generations apart.

But both women were very much alike; same rich auburn hair, the same fair skin and the same startling forest-green eyes.  
_Very beautiful indeed…_

Neither of the dames portrayed in these pictures was actually the lady from the courtyard, but it was obvious that they were related.

No wonder Arthur was so smitten… If the Princess was as witty as she was gorgeous, then his friend was pretty much lost.

Merlin couldn't help scoffing at his charge's plight. Rather than worried, the wizard was now frankly amused.

Moving on, he closed the curtains and walked towards another corridor. When turning around the corner, he came face to face with whom he recognized as the second lady he'd seen in the courtyard days past.

They were both equally startled, and whatever it was she was carrying fell off her hands. Nothing fragile, fortunately, since no sound of broken pieces was heard.

Merlin kneeled at once; it was only clothing.  
"I'm sorry… It was not my intention…"

She also kneeled to help him, giggling amused.  
"Do not mention it… It was actually my fault. I am quite clumsy …"

They both stood up at the same time, Merlin still holding part of the load and smiling.  
"Don't tell me about clumsy." He joked. "I've been told that I am very capable of tearing down an entire fortress if given enough time."

She laughed again.

_So, you must be Princess Gwynn's lady in waiting…_

Merlin immediately decided that he liked her. She was petite and blonde, and her sparkling grey eyes had a very honest and direct look.

"Oh, yes?" She teased in retribution. "I once single handedly destroyed an entire banquet table because my heel got caught up in the table cloth!"

The young wizard laughed merrily. What a nice lady indeed…  
"I'm sorry milady… but… Can I help you to where you were going? We really don't want these…" He wasn't sure of what he was carrying. "… Fine pieces to meet a disastrous end on our clumsy account."

Before she could say anything, he continued.  
"And I know what you are worried about, but I am quite confident that our mutual clumsiness could in fact compensate each other. So these clothes are probably safer if we deliver them together."

Helene too liked this gentleman—whoever he was—his honest eyes and straightforward demeanor suited her perfectly. Not to mention that she was actually relieved to have someone other than Gwynn and Lescaut to converse with.

She figured that he _could be_ the mysterious Prince Arthur, but given that she was not entirely familiar with the rest of the household—since she had not been able to leave their quarters until today—he might be anyone, really.

Amused, she also discovered that her mistress' absurd idea of hiding identities could be put to some good use, as a matter of fact. It was going to be easier and more relaxing to maintain a safe anonymity for as long as it could be maintained. She would not deceive, but would not rush to publicize who she was either.

Little did she know that her companion was thinking _exactly _the same thing.

* * *

Merlin accompanied the lady for a while, chatting happily about nothing in particular. They were both glad to speak with another human being outside their respective parties. And even though they might have not been fully aware of the extent of such contentment, the animated conversation was proof enough of how they felt.

Their trip took them through several more corridors and a brief stop at the sewing room, where they safely deposited the items they'd been carrying, jokingly congratulating each other afterwards for a chore well done.

In their way back, they stopped in front on an ample door where the lady seemed to have been going.

She sighed. "This is where we part."

Merlin felt like pouting in disappointment. He had truly enjoyed her company.  
"Well, then… It has been a true pleasure, my lady"

But before entering the room, Helene gave into her curiosity and decided to introduce herself as an opening to ask him the same.  
"By the way, I am Helene, Princess Gwynn's lady in waiting… And you are…?"

Merlin winced internally… Things had been going so well until then…

_Oh… no… You had to ask, didn't you?_

He promptly kissed the hand she was extending, while trying to figure out what he should answer here.  
Should he tell the truth and risk angering Arthur? Or should he lie to her?  
What was he to do?

"Funny that you ask, lady Helene…" He stalled. "I am…"

And then, as if some higher power had taken pity on him, they were interrupted by the stormy arrival of the Princess. The initial surprise at the unexpected appearance morphed into an alarmed confusion when both, Helene and Merlin, took on the state of disarray of the lady.

Gwynn's long hair was disheveled and she looked very much distraught. It was also obvious that she'd been crying.

The Princess gazed briefly at Merlin, acknowledging his presence with a short node—which the wizard respectfully returned—and spoke directly to her maid.

"Helene… Please. I need your help." And without further ado, she walked into her quarters.

"Of course, my lady" The concern in the maid's voice was quite evident. She hadn't seen Princess Gwynn like this in a long time.

Mutely apologizing to Merlin for leaving in such hurry, Helene curtsied briefly and followed her mistress.

Alone again, the wizard remained puzzled by the abrupt developments, trying his best to fathom what could have happened. Nevertheless, two things were for certain: first, he had been miraculously spared from having to disclose his identity—or to lie about it—, and second, the Princess was seriously upset.

Out of the blue, a horrifying thought crossed his mind.

_What had Arthur done?_


	15. Chapter 15: Tempers running high

SAME DISCLAIMER AS IN CHAPTER 1

Thanks to my beta and and thanks much for the nice reviews :-)

A/N: I meant for the previous chapter to break the mounting anxiety of the main characters by directing the spotlight to the others. Besides, some of the information Merlin unintentionally discovered, could be quite important further on ;-)

* * *

_**15. Tempers running high**_

Sir Lescaut had been guarding the fortress—or rather waiting in the royal quarters, though he preferred the more dramatic angle—while Helene enjoyed a much needed walk outside the rooms. He'd pitied the lady in waiting, being trapped inside for almost a week by courtesy of his mistress' scheme. He still could not understand why Princess Gwynn had decided to do so.

It seemed to have been partially a spur-of-the-moment thing, if he recalled correctly. They had come to Eleara with the sole mission to talk Prince Arthur out of the arranged marriage without Ruther's knowledge. At the last minute, though, the Princess decided not to disclose her name.

He remembered the discussion between the Princess and Helene, the latter trying to talk the former out of it to no avail. His mistress had mentioned something about getting to know the Prince better so she could concoct a good plan to convince him to reject her uncle's offer.

The guard had been skeptical from the beginning anyway. Leoness' throne was enough temptation for any prince or noble lord in the entire land; so the chances of convincing the chosen, lucky candidate _not_ to accept the offer were slim to none.

What he could not fathom, however, was why—after so many years of systematically turning down aspirants to his niece's hand—now it had been Ruther himself who had decided to marry her with Camelot's heir.

Only the gods would know what was _really_ in Ruther's mind. The only thing he knew was the terror in his Princess' face when she learned from her uncle that she would be going to Camelot, should the Pendragons accept his proposal. Helene herself had been very disturbed. And then, his mistress had decided on the trip to Eleara.

He shook his head, trying to dismiss his thoughts so he could get his attention back to the book. There was something else going on, to which he was not privy, so it did not make much sense to theorize about it.

The door opened and he stood up with start when Princess Gwynn made her entrance visibly distraught, followed by a very concerned Helene.

What had happened to her?  
Oh, no… He should have _never_ let her go on these trips alone with that knight from Camelot!  
Even if she had ordered him to do so, he should at least have followed them from the distance!  
His oath was to protect her, _even_ against her own wishes.

"Princess! What happened to you my lady?" His initial concern turned into a raw fury a second later, when he took on her disheveled state. "What had _he_ _done_ to you?"

His hand was ready on the hilt of his sword… Maybe this time he would be allowed to challenge the impudent knight to a duel. Hopefully to the death.

Even in her distressed state, Gwynn had the presence of mind to realize that her dear guard had read the situation all wrong. One look at her appearance in the mirror, and she understood why.

"Nothing, Lescaut" She breathed in, trying to calm herself. "He's done nothing. I promise."

The guard was not totally convinced, but it was not his place to argue with his stubborn charge. The Princess turned to Helene.

"He _is_ Prince Arthur!"

The maid gasped and her face lost all colors.  
"Oh, my lady… I…" She couldn't find the words.

Gwynn sat, defeated, and covered her face with her hands. The sob that followed was a blow to her guard's heart.

"I knew there was something shifty about him! I told you I did not trust him!" The knight exploded, his hand opening and closing on the hilt of his sword. Prince or not, he would strike down whoever dare to hurt her.

Helene looked at him admonishingly, her eyes clearly saying "_You are not helping!" _and Lescaut shut up.

The presence of the short-tempered guard was going to be an inconvenience in this situation, and the pragmatic maid needed time alone with her mistress. She asked softly to calm the atmosphere.

"Sir Lescaut, could you please tell the kitchen help to prepare some calming tea for the Princess?"

He knew what she was doing and did not appreciate it. He had left his charge alone way too much on this trip—against his better judgment—and look where things had gotten!

Then again, he was aware of the bond that the Princess and Helene shared and he knew it was not his place to intervene in their private conversations. He nodded and left, wishing he would cross path with the Prince so he could set the insufferable royal straight.

Once the knight was gone, Helene went back to the Princess. Her biggest concern found the way to her voice first.  
"Gwynn… did you tell him the truth?"

The Princess dried her tears with her hand, shaking her head, and Helene breathed in relief. Her mistress' secret was still safe.

"But I was about to…" Gwynn sobbed again. "Oh, Helene… how could I be so stupid!"

Helene sat in the chaise next to her charge and gave her a motherly embrace, trying to comfort her.  
"You did not know, my lady."

_And you were falling in love with him.  
_The unspoken truth floated in the room and they both knew it.

"Where is he now?"

Gwynn shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know…"

"How come you do not…"

The Princess continued, reigning on her sobs. "I scared his horse away before I rode back home…"

"You did what?"

Helene was between amused and worried. She really admired Gwynn's capacity to react under pressure. Undoubtedly her warrior skills had a lot to do with that. But sometimes the Princess would do things without fully weighing the further consequences and found herself into a larger predicament afterwards.

The maid could only imagine the outrage of the Prince in this situation and shrieked inwardly. That was certainly not going to be a good place to start negotiations.

"I had to." Gwynn explained as if reading her maid's thoughts. "When I learned who he was in reality, I could only think in what I had almost disclosed and I had to get away from him. He was… "

_Happy… Hopeful…  
__Clueless._

"He thought that I would be pleased…" She scoffed bitterly.

Helene figured that much. They had obviously become too attached to each other—farce and all—and she believed that in the Prince's mind, that was actually a good thing. After all, if they had been promised to each other, the blossoming attraction could only be seen as a blessing.

Gwyn's thoughts, however, were going through a totally different path. Discovering his true identity had only been half of the problem… The fact that she had almost told him her secret had been what had scared her the most.

There were many things Helene wanted to ask at the moment, but she decided to wait. The Princess needed to gather her wits about her. A wash and a change of clothes would be a start.

Lescaut came with the tea tray and both ladies moved into the Princess' private quarters.

* * *

Later on and fully composed, Gwynn was looking at her reflection in the mirror while Helene worked on her hair. This time she had requested that not a single lock was left out of place.

Everything was her fault, and she had no problem owning up such fact.  
What had started as an innocent game to learn more about the Prince without disclosing her identity, had gotten out of hands when instead of the royal Pendragon, she met this enchanting knight…

After that, she had been so enthralled by him that could not bring herself to tell the truth anymore, trying—in her romantic denial—to delay the inevitable.

Her eyes turned colder and she straightened her shoulders.  
She had been childish and indulgent with her feelings, an extravagance that as a Princess she should have _never_ embraced; and she was now paying for it.

But he had taken advantage of the situation as well, and she would never forgive him for that. Out of both their lies—whether he knew it or not—his had been far more dangerous… To think that she had almost confided in him made her blood freeze in fear.

In spite of the royal mask of aloofness that the Princess had donned, Helene could still see the myriad of emotions going through her mistress' eyes.

"What are you going to do?" She probed softly.

Gwynn sighed, coming out of her reverie.  
"I will speak with him tomorrow before we leave."

Helene nodded. Maybe after a good night rest things would look clearer.

"I will ask him to reject the offer, though." The Princess carried on in a lifeless voice. "If he cares about me as he said he does, I might still be able to convince him."

The maid tensed. Was her mistress thinking of disclosing everything?

Gwynn understood her friend's unspoken concern and shook her head.  
"I will simply tell him I cannot marry him. Hopefully he would take my word for it."

The lady in waiting had her doubts. If the Prince was seriously taken by her mistress, as she feared he was, why would he decline the chance of marrying her and at the same time obtain the craved throne of Leoness?

Then again, there were no many options left either. She prayed to the gods that things would work out in the end. Her only concern was the safety of her dear friend.

A muffled commotion coming from the antechamber caught the attention of both ladies and they exchanged questioning looks. Lescaut was there, but Helene decided she would see what was going on.

* * *

Arthur had arrived at the castle in one of the worst moods he could remember, and he did have a long array of historical bad days from where to compare.

Walking in with long, angry strides, he terrorized a young servant boy while demanding to know where the Princess was. The poor lad had no idea, and only managed to point the furious knight towards the royal quarters stuttering that possibly Lady Helene knew.

Too incensed for etiquette, the Prince knocked at Gwynn's quarters with a forceful hammering.

If he had thought that things could not get any more aggravating, he was sorely mistaken; the door opened and an equally furious Sir Lescaut stood on the threshold. Arthur mutely cursed his luck.

"What do you want…?" The contempt the young soldier felt made the proper greeting get strangled in his throat. "… _Sire_"

"I want to speak with the Princess."

"You cannot." Pause. "_Sire_"

Arthur narrowed his eyes at the knight's bravado. He was not sure whether to laugh or to strike down the young soldier.  
He was glad that the farce was over, though, so he could be _the_ _Prince _again and stare down this insolent guard.

"You _do_ _not_ tell a Prince what he can or cannot do, Lescaut."

But Sir Lescaut did not seem to care about that detail at the moment. He'd never seen his beloved charged so distraught, and this irritating _Sir Merlin_—who turned out to be the infamous Arthur Pendragon no less—was the only one to blame.

His next words came out through clenched teeth, and although the knight knew he was pushing his luck, his rising indignation blinded him to everything else.

"I told you she was _not_ one to be trifled with. But you did not listen." He stepped further, leveling his dark glare with the Prince's eyes. "If you hurt her, I _will_ kill you… _Your highness._"

Arthur arched his eyebrows.  
What the hell had happened in the last couple of hours?  
Was all this just a nightmare from which he would be waking up any moment now?

In any case, he had neither the time, nor the patience for it. His biting arrogance was like a slap on the guard's face.

"So noted, Lescaut. Now, if you're done with your childish threats, I demand to…"

Before he could finish his condescending command or Lescaut could react to his insulting disdain, Helene made her appearance at the door.

One look at this two winded-up warriors and the maid was glad she had decided to intervene. So much testosterone in the atmosphere could only end up in a duel.

"Sir Lescaut, the mistress asked for you to check on the horses, please. I'll speak with the Prince."

After a second in which _anything_ could have happened, the knight nodded and left, still fuming, and Helene sighed in relief. But it was only for a second, however, since she was left to face a very irate Prince Arthur.

"She asked to be left alone, Sire."

Arthur's efforts to reel on his temper to avoid scaring the maid flew out the window at her words.

_She did, didn't she? The nerve…!_

"I am afraid that this time I cannot acquiesce to her highness' latest caprice; the time for her games is long gone." The caustic cynicism changed into a deceitful calm for his next words. "I have been invited here by _your Princess_ to discuss some royal businesses, and I _demand _to do so now. I will _not_ leave this door until I speak with her."

The commanding presence of the Prince filled the air around Helene and—even though intimidated by it—she could still see why her mistress had fallen head-over-heels for this man. He was incredibly handsome in spite of his harsh expression. Powerful tension radiated from his body, and the effort to contain it was clearly revealed by the twitching muscle in his jaw.

She sighed. It was obvious that no argument would change the Prince's determination.

"Very well, my lord." And she moved to close the door, only to find that Arthur's foot prevented her for doing that.

To her mute question, a deadly smile graced Arthur's lips. "I will be waiting here."

Helene was starting to regret having sent Lescaut away. Perhaps the over-strung guard could have been useful now. Nonetheless, she did not have any other options but to obey.

Some minutes later—after convincing Gwynn that she would have to face her intended _right now_ whether she liked it or not—Helene came back and found the Prince exactly in the same position she had left him.

Except that by now, his stoic posture and the cold steel of his eyes spoke of the quality of his royal training. He was certainly a man to be reckoned with and she pitied her mistress.

"My lady says that she will meet you in your quarters momentarily."

Arthur was about to complain, but Helene softly retorted the unspoken protest. "I _assure_ you, my lord, that Princess Gwynn will uphold her word."

He understood and retrieved his foot, moving to leave.

"Very well." And in a softer, repented voice, he finished. "My apologies, my lady, if my behavior have distressed you."

Helene nodded, utterly surprised at the unnecessary apology. To her knowledge, the only other royal who would apologize to servants was Gwynn.

Up until now, that was. She was definitely not expecting Prince Arthur to do so, much less considering his stressed out condition. There was obviously more to this Prince than met the eye…

She never knew where the courage to voice her next words came from.  
"It would have been much easier for her if you were just a Knight, Sire."

Arthur turned vividly on his tracks, but the door was already closed.


	16. Chapter 16: The meeting

SAME DISCLAIMER AS IN CHAPTER 1

Thanks much to my wonderful beta Kreuse for her support.

Thanks also to Adelaide for the very nice reviews. I usually try to answer the reviews one by one, but since you're not signed, I can't do so with yours.  
In any case, thank you very much again for your kind words and for being such a royal reader :-)

* * *

_**16. The meeting**_

Arthur walked slowly towards his room with a solemn expression trying with all his might to settle his mood. Amidst his frustration, he could not get rid of the memory of the Princess' frightened eyes when she learned his name.

Where had that come from?  
She was poised and courageous.  
More than that… She was a warrior princess. He knew that. He'd seen her.  
Then why the fear?

He also pondered her guard's direct threat, finally understanding Lescaut's zeal when it came to Gwynn. She was his charge after all. Still, such fact did not sufficiently explain why the young knight would think he could hurt her.

The Prince was well aware that this was simply the inescapable conclusion of the pleasurable charade he had been playing until now… Except that he had wished for a different type of end.

He had tried to convince himself that he would enjoy the moment while it lasted, whatever the final consequences, but the truth was that he regretted this ending more than he had imagined he would.

And then, there were the words of Helene…

He walked into his quarters to find his manservant pacing the room and visibly worried.

Merlin had been waiting for his master, very concerned about what might have happened with the Princess to upset her so. One look at Arthur's face, however, and the warlock braced himself waiting for the explosion.

But it did not come. The Prince's voice was grimly calmed.

"I need you to make yourself scarce."

Even more puzzled by the request, the warlock opened his mouth to ask about the Princess, but never had the chance.

"Now!" Arthur barked.

Okay then, it was obvious that the mood was certainly volatile and Merlin knew better than to argue. Just as he was opening the antechambers' door to disappear as… _requested, _Princess Gwynn showed up at the threshold.

Both were slightly startled, though recovered immediately.

"Your Highness!" The warlock bowed.

Gwynn recognized him from earlier and nodded, a small polite smile gracing her lips.  
"I believe we have met before, but have not been properly introduced, Sir…"

"I am Merlin." He answered, glad to have finally made the Princess' acquaintance, despite the less-than-fortunate circumstances.

Her perfectly symmetric eyebrows rose in surprise.  
"You _are_ Sir Merlin?"

The warlock couldn't help a small chuckle and rushed to clarify.  
"Oh, no my lady. I am just Merlin. I'm Prince Arthur's manservant." And bowed again, kissing the hand that she was now extending.

_Strange… It felt …_

But her voice interrupted his thoughts.  
"Well, I'm glad to make your acquaintance Merlin."

"Likewise, Princess."

Meanwhile, Arthur had been watching the exchange in utter incredulity.  
He was now definitely inclined to believe that—for the last couple of hours—he had been indeed trapped in the most bizarre nightmare his mind could produce.

_What did they think they were doing?_

Merlin had the specific order to disappear, and Gwynn knew very well that he wanted… No: he _demanded _to finally have their overdue conversation.  
But for some reason, they both had decided to absolutely ignore his royal commands and rather engage in a trivial chitchat!

He cleared his throat with intent, and the Princess and the warlock understood the hint. Merlin bowed once again and left with a sympathetic smile to the Princess.

Once the door closed, she turned to Arthur.  
"You used your manservant's name?"

The innocent mirth dancing in her eyes got under his skin, and his barely restrained ire erupted after all.  
"I did. Apparently, I am not as apt at deception as you are."

Gwynn straightened her face, the fleeting fun at the unexpected discovery totally gone. Whether that was a compliment or an insult, she did not care. He too had been deceitful; he should not hold it against her.

Her voiced turned cold and regal.  
"You wanted to talk, so here I am."

The Prince looked at her with an unreadable expression. She had changed, and her clothes and hair were immaculately in place.

So beautiful, so… unreachable.  
It was impossible _not_ to see the royal in her, and he wondered how he could have missed that before.

Reining his thoughts from wandering into less urgent matters, he spoke with the coldest sarcasm of his ample collection.

"First I would like to know why did you run away from me and left me stranded without my horse. And _since you_ _asked_, I did have a safe trip back to the castle; thanks for the concern _your highness_."

Her face remained immutable fueling his fury.  
"You lied to me."

Arthur scoffed. "_I_ lied to you?"  
She could not possibly be serious, couldn't she?

"_I_ lied to you Princess?" His tone became colder, if that was possible. "And I suppose you are the epitome of honesty!"

His cynicism stung with full force but Gwynn subdued her embarrassment. She would not give him the pleasure of showing remorse when he was obviously not showing any.

She arched an eyebrow with mordant disdain, abruptly changing the subject.  
"Are these childish complains of yours the urgent matters you needed to discuss, Sire?"

The Prince moved closer to her, his fists clenching on his side.  
"I warned you earlier that you should learn to control your tongue, madam." He seethed.

Even though she did not yield any physical space, the Princess backed up internally.  
Perhaps exasperating him further was not a good idea.

She sighed, her voice between annoyed and tired.  
"What do you want to discuss, Prince?"

Arthur sneered. Was she trying to drive him crazy on purpose?  
Because she was doing a really good job so far…

The threat in his tone and eyes was loud and clear.  
"What _do I_ want to discuss? You mean… as in '_a meeting to coordinate our actions to prevent this ill-fated union' _was_ MY _idea? Are you taking me for an idiot?"

Gwynn winced inwardly; this was going to be difficult.  
She had hoped _not _to see him again until she could fully gather her wits. But his _royal-stubbornness_ had thrown a tantrum in front of her quarters and for the sake of the household's peace, she'd been forced to face him right away.

She was so mad at him at the moment, that her anger clouded her reason. She needed to finish this and soon, and she'd better think before speaking, as hard as the task might be.

Pushing back her thoughts she straightened her shoulders, effectively disguising her inner turmoil under the royal mask she was so accustomed to wear in her uncle's court.

"You are right, your highness. I have asked you to come here and yet I've been indulging in this silly game for too long."

_Silly game? Is that what everything was for her?_

The idea hurt far more than Arthur was willing to admit, but he had his dignity too.  
If that's how she wanted to deem it, then let it be so…

She continued in her cold, distant tone, while desperately trying to obviate the fact that this was the same knight she had_ almost_ said she loved only hours ago.  
"I invited you to Eleara to request that you _do_ _not_ accept my uncle's proposal, Sire."

The prince was swallowing bile, but wouldn't admit it even if his life were depending on it.  
His voice was treacherously civil.  
"And why, may I ask, is that?"

"Because I cannot marry you." Her tone suggested that it was so obvious it needn't be explained.

Arthur's patience was hanging by the thinnest of the threads.  
He closed the distance to where she was standing, knowing perfectly well that his proximity would unsettle her. And he was glad for it. Whatever game she had been playing, it would end right now.

"Yes, you've said that; many times, in fact. But you have yet to answer my question."

"I do not have to explain myself to you!"

Her insolence fanned his ire, and Arthur was now absolutely incensed.  
"Oh, I think you do… Princess."

Pulling courage from where she had thought there was none left, Gwynn reacted to his closeness and recovered rapidly, a haughty attitude darkening her eyes.  
"Even if I were to disclose my reasons, which I won't, you would not understand them, Sire."

That was enough.  
The Prince felt the urgent need to strangle her, and wondered for how long he would be able to reign on it.  
Didn't she realize how thin the ice under her feet was?

White-hot fury shone in his cerulean eyes, and an arrogant smirk curved his perfect lips.  
"You should _not_ underestimate me, Princess." He stressed each of his words, "In spite of your preconceived notions about myself and the kingdom from where I hail—which you had made perfectly clear days past—I am neither a simpleton nor a brute warrior who only knows how to kill."

That was like a slap on her face and she couldn't repress her flushing this time. All the ill words she had spoken the day in the ruins came back to her at once.

_Heavens… All the things she had said…_

Her mouth had run away with her as usual, and she had not only insulted him, his kingdom and his king… but also… his own father!  
Adding to her torment, the knowledge that he was still the gentle man who had made her so happy the last couple of days was like a dagger twisting in her heart.  
Her throat contracted and she knew her tears were close. But she promised herself she wouldn't cry.

_Not in front of him._

"I… apologize for my unsuitable words, Prince."

In any other moment, Arthur might have been pleased at the look of remorse that flashed through her eyes, but right now he was well beyond that.  
Towering over her, he invaded her space without regret.  
"It is _not_ your apology that I seek, Princess." He growled. "It's the truth."

As much as she wanted to maintain her stance, Gwynn retreated a little.  
"That I cannot give you, Sire."

The Prince could tell she was distressed, but her stubbornness was driving him mad.  
Why couldn't she admit how she felt? Why all the secrecy?  
What was she hiding so adamantly?

It was perhaps time to play the card she did not know he was holding…  
"Is it true that it would be easier for you to admit your feelings if I were a knight and not the Prince of Camelot?"

Her dismayed reaction and startled eyes told him that he had hit bull's eye.  
"Who told you that?"

A ghost of a smirk appeared on his lips, but his eyes and voice remained as cold as ice.  
"That is of no consequence now. Is it true?"

Gwynn felt trapped. Of course it was true!  
It would have been easier if he were _anyone_ except the son of Uther Pendragon.  
But she would never admit that to him.

"No, Sire. That is not true." She lied impassively.

And before her charade began to fall apart, she got back to business and pushed.  
"Can I count on you to cancel the arrangement my lord? As you are probably aware, my womanly condition renders my opinion on this matter absolutely worthless."

That was a bitter statement if he had ever heard one, and despite his indignation, Arthur felt sorry for her. Perchance some form of negotiation was in order.

"Maybe… However, what was that you once said?" He pretended to think for a moment. "Oh, yes: _Quid pro quo_…"

His cocky smile fired all the alarms in Gwynn's brain.  
"Let us make a deal Princess, if you tell me the _real_ reason why you do not want to marry me, I give you my word that I will do whatever I can to convince my father, the _tyrant_, to reject the Steward's offer."

Oh… How she _hated_ him at that moment.  
He was scornfully throwing back everything she had said.

Her amazing eyes flashed furiously and Arthur felt ironically relieved. He could deal with her wrath, but her fears disarmed him completely. And he could not afford to become pudding in her hands again.  
Not now.

Yet Gwynn didn't give up, too enraged to do so.  
She knew her next tactic was certainly a low one, but she was running out of options very quickly.

The conceited attitude returned to her eyes, and this time it was she who walked the short distance towards the Prince, completely disregarding his murderous look. She spoke deliberately slowly with a cool calm she didn't know she was capable of faking.

"I had you for a chivalrous man, Prince. But I guess you left that virtue with your disguise of Sir Merlin... I see now that I cannot appeal to the better nature of your royal persona, thus my businesses here are done. Good night."

She turned to leave, and as expected, Arthur flew to the entrance. Just as she was grabbing the knob, his hand on the door effectively prevented her from opening it.  
Gwynn had known his sense of honor would overcome his antagonism. However, she had underestimated the passion she knew—having tasted it first hand—loomed underneath his honorable façade.

"We are not finished just yet, Princess; and by the way… that was a very cheap shot."

His deep voice and his breath on her ear covered her skin with goose bumps of arousal. Apparently, she had also miscalculated the extent of his sway on her.

Arthur could clearly see—thanks to her perfect up-do—the soft flush that crept trough her delicate neck… The sight and the unsolicited thought that followed made his body tense like the string of a bow. He had to call in all his self-control to resist the impulse to tenderly bite that flawless skin and then lavish kisses on the assaulted flesh…

Unaware of his agitation, Gwynn was beyond livid from his words but did not dare to turn, fully aware of his closeness.  
_How dare he!_

Through clenched teeth, she hissed.  
"I am _not_ of your possession, Sire. I do not need your permission to leave!"

Still lost in the intensity of his feelings, Arthur had trouble finding his voice for a second.  
"Answer me."

"I cannot …"

Her breathing was becoming erratic echoing his own, as her defenses started to fall. The raw power radiating from his body was like a tidal wave that was slowly drowning her, and Arthur keenly sensed that the wall she had built was crumbling into pieces.

A cruel pleasure at her imminent capitulation flooded the Prince's chest. It was a small compensation for the pain that every one of her words had caused him.

Baiting her a bit more would be an added perk that his bruised feelings would also welcome.  
"I think you cannot answer simply because you _do not have_ an answer. I am not indifferent to you, just as you are not indifferent to me. But for some reason, you are too stubborn to admit it."

Once again her indignation came to her rescue. Fears and arousal forgotten, she was not about to let this Prince to tell her how she felt… No matter how close to the truth he was.

She turned vividly, facing him outraged, and Arthur felt suddenly enveloped in green flames of fury.  
"Do not flatter yourself!"

"Then tell me the truth."

She could have sworn he was silently laughing at her. Mocking her and her feelings.  
Oh… Now she just wanted to _hurt_ him, badly… and she knew how.

"All right, then. I cannot marry you because my heart belongs to another."

Arthur backed up immediately as if she had slapped him. He had never expected anything like that.

After a moment of suffocating astonishment, his brain began to work frantically. His eyes scanned her face for a sign… any sign that would tell him she was lying. That she did not love another…

_She could not love another. _

But what if…  
Maybe everything had been indeed a game… And maybe the simple knight had been just the perfect pray…

Could she be this cold?  
Could he have been so wrong about her?

More out of wishful thinking than actual conviction, he stated forcefully.  
"You are lying."

"How dare …"

Her words died in his mouth. Enveloping her in an all too powerful embrace, Arthur kissed her desperately, almost fiercely. His mouth took possession of her lips, mercilessly touching every corner, stealing every secret, claiming everything as his.

Of all the possible reactions from the Prince, this was the one Gwynn was least expecting, albeit the one she had been craving ever since the ambush in the forest.  
She did not try to resist. She would not have been able to, even if she had wanted…

The heat of his body melted her own and her knees buckled, making her faintly moan in surrender. She was vaguely aware that the only reason she had not fell on the floor was the pair of strong arms that were crashing her against a mighty wall of princely anger.

With the last vestige of lucidity, Arthur noticed her submission and knew he was next.  
He abruptly broke the kiss. It was now or never…

"Yes." His voice was hoarse, giving away a hardly contained desire. "You _are_ lying."

And he swiftly backed away leaving the shaking Princess completely in shock.  
His smug smile quickly died on his face, however, when he saw her bracing herself, a trembling hand touching her ravaged lips.

_Why had he done that? _

"Finnabair…"

She glared at him with a mixture of loathing and hurt that stopped his words of repentance before he could think of them, and then her emotionless voice pierced his heart.

"Whatever the case, my lord, I beg of you… Do not marry me…"

And she left.


	17. Chapter 17: A white rose

SAME DISCLAIMER AS IN CHAPTER 1

Thank you so much for the nice reviews :-)

_**

* * *

**__**17. A white rose**_

Merlin had been hiding—or rather _disappearing_ as commanded—behind the pillars of the corridor and saw the Princess walked by with purposeful steps. Her mask of royal propriety could scarcely hide the deep anger—and something else he could not fully discern—that marred her beautiful features.

He had to wonder about this… innate ability of his master to enrage his female companions. His brain recalled all the mornings in which he had walked into the royal quarters and had to face an irate lady, almost never twice the same, but equally furious as the last one.

Even though the relationship with Princess Gwynn did not fit the profile at all, it seemed that nonetheless Arthur had managed to infuriate her as well…

What could have happened during their ride?  
And what could have happened in the visitor's quarters a moment ago?

The warlock was seriously worried and very much confused. He did not want to think ill of Arthur, but had to wonder if perhaps the Prince's… impetuosity… had offended the Princess.

He berated himself, shaking his head. No way. It was ludicrous to even think like that of Arthur… The Prince had always been the epitome of chivalrous behavior.

Well… with the exception perhaps of the collection of sordid affairs these latest years, since the memory had just resurfaced… But Merlin knew well that the Prince had not seduced any of those ladies. If anything, they had been more than willing to share his bed at the possibility to land the crown.

This Princess, however, did not need a crown.  
As a matter of fact, she did not want to marry Prince Arthur at all.  
That was the reason they were in Eleara in the first place, wasn't it?

Maybe that was it? Maybe Arthur had finally told her the truth?

He sighed while walking back to the room. Whatever the case, his master definitely did not seem to be in a conversational mood when he'd left him. Most likely he would have to wait to get some answers.

_Or maybe not._

The warlock stopped on his tracks in surprise.  
"Are we leaving?"

Arthur merely acknowledged his entrance looking over his shoulder. "Yes. Please pack the rest of our belongings."

Merlin was dying to make a joke at the fact that the Prince had actually been packing his weapons… himself! One good look at his charge, though, and he immediately disregarded the idea. The dark mood of Camelot's heir filled up the room once again.

"And… Where are we going?"

The Prince kept fastening his bow before answering. "Home."

"And… When are we leaving?"

"When we are done packing." Arthur looked at him with an impatient royal glare. "So stop talking and keep moving!"

"But… but… It is almost dusk… We could leave tomorrow after breakfast and…"

"No, Merlin. We are leaving _now_."

Whenever his master used that conclusive tone, the warlock knew it was useless to try and argue the point further. Pity… he had been hoping to feast one last time in the bountiful breakfast. So, maybe…

"Don't we need to bid them farewell?"

"I _will_ take care of it." The Prince looked menacing. "Just get to work!"

The truth was that Arthur did not want to spend another night under the same roof as Gwynn, knowing that he would never see her again. It was going to be easier to just ride back to Camelot and leave this place—with its hopes and despairs—behind as soon as he possibly could.

"I see…"

The next inquiry was floating in the air and Arthur sighed annoyed. He briefly wondered what was more aggravating, if his servant's questions or his servant's _silent_ questions.

"And before you ask, the Princess does not want to marry me." He announced devoid of emotion.

Merlin's blood froze. His worst fears could be just becoming true then.

"Arthur… What have you done?"

His voice was so full of concern that effectively caught the attention of the Prince, who was now busy strapping one of his swords.

"What do you mean _what have I done_?"

Merlin's embarrassed expression spoke volumes and a second later Arthur understood the true meaning of the question.

"Merlin!" He shouted affronted. "Get your head off the sewer, would you?"

Merlin sighed in relief, but couldn't just drop the subject.

"Well, I mean… The Princess came all disheveled and crying; you came in one of your worst moods ever and she didn't want to see you…" He blurted out. "At first I did not want to even think about it, but … you have your… reputation with the ladies, you know… and so…"

He stopped when Arthur's sword was at his neck, which punctually reminded him that he should learn to hold his tongue whenever his master was handling weapons nearby…

The Prince deadly smile challenged him to continue.  
"_SO?_"

"So… I see now that I've got everything wrong …"

"Good." Arthur smirked lowering his sword and turned away.

Merlin silently moved to pack. But his curiosity got the best of him, yet again. Arthur's lifeless demeanor was too much alike the one he wore before the trip. That was not good.

"What happened?"

The Prince shrugged his shoulders, cold and apathetic.  
"She says she loves another."

Arthur paused what he was doing for a moment, though, as the words left a bitter savor in his mouth, the likes of which he had never tasted.

Merlin frowned. That was odd to say the least. If the Princess was actually in love with someone else, why had she been entertaining Arthur's flirtations? She really did not seem to be the teasing type, judging from the little he had been able to gather at least…

"And do you believe her?"

_Did he?  
_The image of her trembling lips and the rapt expression of her eyes after his kisses told Arthur he shouldn't. He _knew_ he was not completely indifferent to her.

Then again, the loathing in her eyes and coldness of her voice at her last words had left little room to his hopes.

"No… I mean, yes." The Prince finally answered, and after a brief pause he continued as if speaking to himself.

"I told Gwynn who I really was and she ran away from me. I…" He sighed rubbing his face in frustration. "I just cannot understand why… Why would a Princess entertain the heart of a knight and not that of a Prince... Or at least, not this Camelot Prince…"

His last words were almost inaudible, and after uttering them the Prince realized that he was disclosing too much for his liking, so he turned an admonishing finger to his manservant.

"And it was the wind and a long race that tousled her hair, _not _me!"

The expression in Merlin's face was quite comical when the warlock recognized that he hadn't thought of that, and had rather gone straight for the lurid angle.

"Oh…"

Arthur's lips curved slightly in a tentative smile. He could read his servant's thoughts as clearly as if he had been voicing them.

Strangely, the little repartee had somehow refreshed the mood. Merlin could sense it and so he probed.

"But you did make her mad…" He said impishly.

Arthur shook his head in frank amusement and acknowledged with a chuckle his friend's gesture. Merlin was simply trying to make light of the situation.

"Yes. Apparently I did do that." He answered sheepishly.

"And now we are going to fix it." Merlin concluded.

Arthur arched an eyebrow. "_We?_"

Merlin turned around and continued packing.

"Oh, yes. You are going to need me if you are ever going to get out of whatever predicament you are in with the Princess." He teased.

"Then, I'm most certainly doomed." Arthur joked back throwing him a bundle of clothes.

Neither of them knew at that moment how much truth was embedded in Merlin's teasing and prophetic words.

* * *

When the following morning the servant lady brought breakfast to the royal quarters she found a sealed note with a white rose at the door. It was addressed to the Princess. Surprised, she shrugged her shoulders and placed it on the tray next to her highness' tea.

Lady Helene answered her call.

"Good morning Malkyn." She noticed the flower first and smiled. "Is this for our Lady?"

It was a nice gesture and a much needed one, she thought. The previous night Gwynn had come back in a very strange humor and had locked herself in her room, not calling for assistance whatsoever.

"Yes, lady Helene. I just found it at the door together with the note."

Helene frowned, following the maid's finger that was pointed at the sealed parchment.

A note for the Princess?  
The royal seal indicated it was from Prince Arthur, which reminded her…

"Have our guests woken up yet?"

"Oh, no my lady. They are long gone." The plump maid shrugged again. "I found their quarters empty this morning. The stable boy says that they left yesterday right before dusk."

They were gone already?  
How strange… However, since she hadn't spoken with her mistress after her meeting with the Prince, maybe Gwynn had succeeded after all.

"It is all right, Malkyn. I will let the Princess know. We might be leaving soon as well, though. Please inform the rest of the household."

* * *

Gwynn had the flower in one hand and the note in the other while observing the esplanade where Arthur had been practicing with his sword the afternoon after the ruins.

She could still see him in her mind… His impeccable form, his superb skills. So handsome and mighty…

_So impossible._

Unconsciously, she moved the rose to her lips and the warm caress of the petals reminded her of his sensual ones… The butterflies in her stomach fluttered again at the memory, and she felt her pulse quickening.

She had cried herself to sleep last night. This morning, however, she was feeling better. Apparently her tears had been able to wash away some of the hurt from her soul.

Opening the note with trembling fingers, she took in a deep breath and began to read. The unexpected heading briefly fogged her eyes with unshed tears and yet brought forth a small smile, albeit a sorrowful one, to her face.

_My Lady Finnabair,_

_I sincerely thank you for being our gracious hostess these past days. Although I would have preferred to say goodbye in person, my royal duties call me back to Camelot and I must take my leave from your generous hospitality tonight. _

_Thus, I am left without options but this written farewell to wish My Lady a safe trip back home. _

_I would also like to extend my apologies if any of my actions had offended you in any way, and assure My Lady that nothing has been farther from my intentions. _

_Sharing time with you has certainly been a delightful adventure, one which I will always remember with joy, and I wish you all the best. _

_I do have one regret, however, and it is that we seem to be parting in ill terms after all, despite the wishes we exchanged one raining morning in the library._

_Yours truly,_

_Arthur Pendragon_

That last paragraph hit her heart point-blank… Once again, he had replied using almost her exact words …

His note was just like him: proud and yet knightly honorable; proper and still mischievous; the double meaning of some of his words—starting with her name—not lost at all to her.

Furthermore, it seemed that the Prince had managed to have the last word, and had nevertheless done so in a remarkably elegant manner… The thought made her smile in spite of the lump on her throat.

And then there was the white rose he'd offered as his parting token: a symbol of pure, innocent… true love.

Bittersweet tears ran freely on her cheeks and she didn't try to stop them anymore, realizing that the Prince's sway on her extended way beyond the physical proximity.

She had never met anyone like him and was most convinced she would never forget him either. She… _loved_ _him_. Not the prince or the knight, just… _him_.  
That was the plain, simple truth and she would be a fool not to face it.

Arthur Pendragon was the last person in the world with whom she should have fallen in love. And there she was, pining for him like she had never thought it would be possible.

Gwynn sighed, drying her tears and composed herself.  
She had suffered far worse miseries than this and was certainly well acquainted with pain.

Her back straightened. She was the _Lady of Leoness_.  
She had endured the loss of her family and the constant fear of his uncle and guardian.  
She _would_ endure a broken heart too.

The letter hinted that the Prince might have taken her request to heart, so the faint hope was still there.

She pressed Arthur's note to her chest. This was the only thing she had left from him and she would treasure it for the rest of her life.

At last she walked to the antechambers to face Helene and Lescaut, her royal stance disguising everything she was feeling.

"I am ready now. Let us go home."

* * *

Arthur and Merlin had ridden almost non-stop since they left Eleara, taking advantage of the unusual clarity that the full moon of one of the last summer nights was providing. The Prince had only consented to take a break the two times in which Merlin had fallen off his horse, completely asleep.

Dawn was coming and the fresh morning dew seemed to have awoken the warlock. Much to Arthur's chagrin—and spite of having hinted it enough by maintaining an ominous silence—Merlin came back to the last topic he wanted to discuss right now.

"How much do you know about the Princess?"

It was time to be loud and clear, then, as apparently his servant's sleep deprivation had made him immune to subtler warnings. Not that he was particularly good at heeding them when he was fully awake either, the Prince reasoned.

"Merlin, has not even occurred to you that I may _not_ want to talk about her?"

"Not really… I was just wondering. I bet she comes from a long-standing royal house."

When Merlin was in talkative mode, Arthur knew that his options were either put up with it, or choke him to death. The latter being a bit harsh, as he had grown fond of his peculiar friend, so he just went with the former.

He shook his head in defeat and pretended to be interested. As long as he did not have to answer, his servant could knock himself out talking.

"Is that so?"

"Yes. I found some very interesting portraits… and…"

Though the Prince kept his aloof and detached expression in place, he was actually paying close attention to Merlin's recount of all the things he had discovered in the library and the portrait room…

_Strange indeed.  
_Arthur had to admit that his curiosity was at least mildly picked. Perhaps he should speak with his father in more detail regarding Leoness and its enigmatic heiress.

"So, there." The warlock finished. "It seems that there is more to this Princess than met the eye."

Arthur mentally scoffed.  
_You have NO idea… _

But he was not about to engage in an open-heart conversation with his servant, thus he changed gears.

"Does this mean that you purposely disobeyed my order to remain in our quarters?"

His harsh expression and narrowed eyes was aimed to put Merlin on guard, but the warlock had heard the underlying amusement in the royal voice. The Prince was not serious.

"Well… you know…" He thought quickly. "I had to do some research on my own to make sure your royal behind was not at risk while you were gallivanting around the country side."

"Oh, really… Should I then _thank you_ for disobeying me?"

"Nope… but you could let it go this time."

Arthur finally laughed and felt a bit better. He was thankful after all, that his friend was there for him… as usual.

By sunset, the white towers of Camelot appeared in the horizon. It never ceased to amaze Arthur how the sole sight of his beloved kingdom was enough to fill his chest with happiness and… hope.

They were home.


	18. Chapter 18: Nothing had changed

SAME DISCLAIMER AS IN CHAPTER 1

Thanks so much to Kreuse, as usual, for betaing my work :-)

Thanks everyone for the nice reviews, particularly Nesota and Adelaide who always drop an encouraging word for yours truly. I very much appreciate the gesture. :-) :-) :-)

* * *

_**Chapter 18: Nothing had changed…**_

"Goodness gracious Merlin! When did you get back?"

The young warlock woke up startled at the call and wasn't really sure where he was until the surroundings became in focus and a smiling Gaius appeared in view.

He was in his room, go figure...  
_Had he been dreaming all this time?_

"Heavens boy… You look like you are seeing a ghost! When did you and Arthur come back?

So, he _had_ been away with the Prince, which meant he _had not_ been dreaming.  
_Good to know.  
_His brain was reluctant to start working, though, and he really wanted to go back to sleep.

"Merlin? Have you lost your tongue?"

Gaius was beginning to sound worried, so he'd better answer.  
"No… I'm just… We've got here very late last night." He yawned. "I did not want to wake you."

The old man laughed amused.  
"Oh, but you did… Or rather, your loud snoring did. This morning I woke up to some strange noise and there you were! It's good to have you back, boy. Come down for breakfast."

A moment later, a disheveled and very sleepy warlock made his appearance at the modest table of their quarters.

"By everything sacred, Merlin… It looks as if you've put on some weight! Have you and Arthur caught a bear and ate it?"

"Weight? No… Bear?"

Oh, yes… Gaius did not know about their trip. Should he tell him?  
Then he remembered the _souvenir_ he'd brought from Eleara and since he was going to need Gaius' help to decipher it, it was going to be better to come clean from the get go.

"Ehem… The truth is that we… were not _precisely_ hunting…"

Gaius stopped what he was doing and looked at his apprentice suspiciously.  
"Not… _precisely_?"

"Well… Arthur made me promise that I wouldn't tell anyone!" He excused before anything else. Besides, it was true.

"Merlin…"

He knew that tone. His mentor's patience was running low.

"All right, here it is: Uther-wanted-Arthur-to-marry-the-Lady-of-Leoness. Arthur-did-not-want-to-marry-her—_at-least-at-first_—and-apparently-the-Lady-did-not-want-to-marry-Arthur-either—_also-at-least-at-first-well-maybe-also-at-last-too_—So-she-sent-word-to-Arthur-to-meet-in-Eleara-to-concoct-together-a-plan-to-prevent-the-arrange-marriage. And-we-had-been-there-the-entire-time. There you go…" He finally breathed.

Everything was said very quickly, without pause or intake of air in the middle, and the old physician felt as if a herd of horses had just ran him through. He sat down.

"What?"

Merlin opened his mouth to repeat, but Gaius warned lifting his index finger in admonition.

"And you'd better speak clearly so I can understand what you are saying, before I forget how much I've missed you and send you to clean the leach tank right now."

* * *

Later on and slightly more awake after having disclosed almost everything he'd gathered in his trip, Merlin finished his much modest breakfast with Gaius. For a moment there, he truly missed the previous mornings in Eleara.

"So, you didn't know the King was planning to marry Arthur?" He asked to his old mentor.

"I'm afraid not. King Uther does not tell me _everything_, you know."

"Yes… but, this is a big decision… I mean: we're talking about Camelot's future queen"

"Precisely."

"What do you know of Leoness and Princess Gwynn?"

"Not much." Gaius thought for a moment. "It's a very wealthy kingdom and the trade is very important there, having access to the sea. But I thought that the entire royal family had died years ago and a steward—who I think it's the previous King's brother or cousin—occupy the throne now."

"Well, he does have a niece, whom he had offered to Uther, I mean, _Arthur, _so-to-speak."

"That is odd. And you say that she would become queen once she marries?"

"That's what she said, yes."

"Well, the steward could be old… or sick and may be trying to ensure that the country is well taken care before… Just a thought."

The young wizard shook his head. "Something does not add up in all this. According to Arthur, she is afraid of her uncle._ And_ she does not want to marry him. What do you think that could mean?"

"I don't know Merlin… In any case, it's not our problem and we have lots of things to do." Gaius stood up. "Finish your breakfast and let's get on with the day's chores."

Merlin groaned. Now he _really_ missed Eleara.  
Speaking of Eleara…

"Wait!" He went to his room and came back with a piece of parchment. "Can you read this?"

Gaius looked at the parchment in surprise.  
"Merlin, please tell me you did not steal a page from a book…"

The wizard looked affronted.  
"Of course not! I… just copied it."

His impish smile made his mentor frown in disapproval.  
"Using magic, I imagine."

"I told you… copying from books is more like a trick than actual magic…"

The old physician was already looking for his spectacles.  
"Yes, yes. Your theories about what is magic and what is not are going to get you in serious trouble some day."

When Gaius finally looked at the inscriptions, his face lost all colors.  
"Where did you find this?"

"In the library. Why?"

"And… was it from a book you said?"

"This one came from a big leather-bind book that had a dragon embossed in the cover. But the same language was everywhere. Other books, rolls, maps… the round table."

"The round table?"

Okay… it seemed that his discovery had picked his mentor's curiosity.  
"Gaius… What do you know about this? What language is this and can you read it?"

Gaius went back to the page.  
"I might, if I had a primer. This is a form of Goidelic, though a very old one. I didn't believe that there were many texts around in it. I'll have to check the archives here in Camelot to see if I can find anything about it."

"So… What do you think it is?" Merlin anxiety was mounting.

The old man was still engrossed with the text.  
"I cannot tell you anything until I'm certain. Conjectures are dangerous things, Merlin, and you know my methods; I need solid proof."

He looked at his apprentice.  
"And did you say that these books are in a state in Eleara? Any idea why she asked Arthur to meet there?"

"Well, according to Lady Finnabair, those were her mother's land."

"Finnabair?" The old man seemed to be getting truly interested. "Who is Finnabair?"

"Oh, didn't I tell you? That's the name that Princess Gwynn told Arthur when she was… incognito."

"Hum… Strange choice indeed. Any idea why that name?"

"Nope. But I can ask Arthur…"

"Please, do so. I will go to the library now. I'll see you at supper."

Merlin was stunned. Gaius was leaving him be without even listing today's chores? _That was a first…_

Well, since apparently he didn't have specific instructions and he was sure Arthur was soundly asleep still… he could go back to bed, come to think of it.

* * *

"Arthur! I am glad you are back my son!" The King seemed to be in a great mood. "I trust you had a good hunting trip!"

"Yes, father. I did. Thank you." He sat heavily. "It's good to be home, though."

"Indeed. Have you given any more thought to King Ruther's proposal I assume?"

_Way to beat around the bushes, father._ Arthur thought somberly. Well then, it was going to be better to end this as soon as possible. But first, he needed some answers.

"As a matter of fact I did, father. I have some concerns, however, that you may be able to address."

His son appeared to be quite at ease about the situation. That was an excellent starting point for the conversation, according to the King.  
"Absolutely, what's in your mind?"

Arthur wasn't kidding himself. He knew his father's good disposition would come to an abrupt end as soon as he'd tell him he wasn't going to marry the Leoness' heiress. However, while such disposition lasted, he could take advantage of it.

"I guess my first question is why the Princess of Leoness?"

The King arched an eyebrow. He knew his son well and this question wouldn't have come out if Arthur didn't have something specific in mind. Nonetheless, it was still a reasonable reservation, so he would have to answer it.

"Well… Several reasons, in fact. Leoness is a very wealthy kingdom. Their harbors allow them to enter in very profitable trades as opposed to Camelot where our people only rely on crops. It would be a very good commercial alliance if Camelot could trade in those ports without paying their expensive taxes."

_So far, nothing special: more riches, checked. _

The King continued.  
"Also, the country's strategic position would provide Camelot with defenses well beyond our borders, which we sorely need right now."

_Military reasons, checked._

"But perhaps most importantly is the fact that for once, Ruther had actually _offered_ his niece's hand to someone." Uther stressed.

That part caught Arthur's full attention. "What do you mean?"

"Princess Gwynn is the sole heiress to the throne of Leoness, King Ruther being just its steward. According to the laws of the land, however, the Princess can only become queen when she marries, and her husband would be the consort King of Leoness."

Arthur pretended to be uninformed about this, waiting for his father to finish the explanation. So far, everything Finnabair had said was indeed so.

"For that reason, Ruther had systematically rejected any request for his niece's hand. Thus, you can imagine my surprise when the envoys came with the proposal. It was almost unheard of!" The King was undoubtedly pleased.

Arthur nodded. He had not known, though, about the initial reluctance of Gwynn's uncle to marry her… Would that be the reason why she was so resentful about Camelot and his father?

"Why do you think he's changed his mind?"

"That I do not know. It is somehow unexpected, however, considering he'll lose his governing power as soon as the Princess marries. That's why he had never allowed it until now."

The Prince was silent and pensive, regretting not having had this information before going to Eleara. He reckoned he didn't have anyone to blame but him, though. If instead of acting like a spoil brat trying to outsmart his father, he had asked about this, then perhaps his meeting with the Princess would have had a more positive and amicable outcome.

He shook his head dismissing his thoughts. What was done, was done.  
"And you don't find this change of heart a bit suspicious?"

"Not in the slightest." His father's response was conclusive. "The proposal he sent is perfectly legitimate and iron-clad binding. Whatever his reasons, they will not affect us at all."

Arthur forlornly noticed the overuse of the word "_we_" by the King. On a rational level, he'd always known that his life belonged to Camelot, to his people. On a more personal level, though, he couldn't help but feel a slight irk at the manner in which the King was taking ownership of this affair.

It'd be better to continue the inquiry rather than dwelling on those thoughts anyway.  
"Do you know this Princess?"

Uther shook his head. "I knew her father and mother… long time ago, before you were even born, when they visited Camelot."

And then, the King's expression changed as he_ thought _he understood where his son's question was coming from.  
"Her mother was an extremely beautiful woman, thus if you are worried about her looks…"

Arthur chuckled shaking his head.  
_Not really, father. The only thing that worried me about her looks was that I couldn't keep my hands to myself when I was close to her._

Nonetheless, he pursued.  
"What if she does not want to marry me?"

"Nonsense." Uther dismissed. "I told you, her opinion in this matter is of no consequence."

"I know that, and you are _not_ listening. What if _she_ does not want to marry _me_?"

The King understood, finally.  
"Well, you will have to woo her…" He paused briefly. "I am fully aware that you have no problems in the lady's department, son… Except perhaps some lack of discretion with your affairs." He scolded and then concluded confidently. "I am sure you will have no troubles winning your lady's heart eventually."

Arthur nodded and remained silent, and the King decided that he wanted to get moving on the matter.  
"Can I then send our acceptance to Leoness?"

The Prince knew this moment would come. However, something did not add up now. _Not like it added perfectly before_, he admitted bitterly. In any case, he needed to buy some more time.

"Not yet. We still have some time in our side and I would like to give a bit more thought to the information you had just provided. I will get back to you on this tomorrow at dinner."

The King narrowed his eyes. Arthur was stalling, and he knew it. Then again, it was an equitable proposal and if the peace with his son was to be broken, it could certainly wait one more day.

"Tomorrow night then." And he changed subjects, thus concluding the previous conversation. "I assume you'll attend the banquet tonight."

"Banquet?"

"Yes, we have visitors from Meidrim. We just have signed a peace treaty with them. I need you there."

"Of course father."

* * *

Something heavy falling on his stomach woke up the warlock yet again.

"Ugh!"

"What on Earth made you think that your leave of absence would be extended here in Camelot?"

Merlin tried to get his bearings again. At least now he knew—thanks to the question—that he was in Camelot.

He rubbed his eyes and sat. The heavy thing on his stomach was a piece of chainmail, and his interlocutor was Arthur, who was looking at him with his trademark cocky expression.

"Arthur! What…? Where…?"

"I see that your eloquence is back. Good. I need you in my quarters and my chainmail needs cleaning… now!"

Merlin groaned again.  
"Now? Can't it wait? I mean… you did make me ride for I don't know how many hours non-stop. I can barely walk!"

"Don't be such a sissy, Merlin!" The Prince scolded. "And no, it cannot wait. Get on with it."

He was about to leave and Merlin remembered.  
"Do you know why the Princess choose Finnabair as her alter-name?"

Arthur frowned. Out of all the odd questions he was used to get from his servant, particularly when Merlin's brain was in such half-working state, this could take the pennant.

"What does _that_ have to do with me needing your services?"

"Nothing, I was just wondering…"

Arthur turned towards the door and the warlock thought he would not answer. From the threshold, though, the Prince said with a somber tone.

"That's the name her mother gave her in the tongue of her forefathers. She said she was named after her great-great-grandmother. Now get to work."

* * *

The banquet was, like any other event of this type, a fairly boring event and Merlin could not wait for Arthur to retire so he could get back to sleep.

The Prince had maintained his royal stance throughout the evening, doing pretty much the standard routine. He had conversed with the foreign dignitaries, had chatted with his knights and was now surrounded by a group of very lively and flirtatious ladies. All the while keeping a smile plastered in his face, which at not point had actually reached his eyes.

Merlin shook his head. Nothing had changed, it seemed.  
Pity… His charge had been so happy, so… alive while in Eleara.

Perhaps he was more taken by the Princess that he was letting on. In any case, and since she had apparently rejected him, that was a moot point now and the warlock was sure his master would turn back to his old habits.

_Starting now, evidently._

He saw how Arthur singled out Lady Muriel, separating her from the group in a not too inconspicuous fashion. The private banter that followed was obviously the preamble of something else. The Prince was speaking close to the lady's ears and she was giggling enticingly.

The pretended demure look in her eyes and the fake interested expression in the Prince's gave Merlin a clear clue of where the night was headed.  
The wizard knew the schedule by heart: balcony, mead… and the royal quarters.

Indeed, nothing had changed.


	19. Chapter 19: The Dragon and The Crow

SAME DISCLAIMER AS IN CHAPTER 1

Additional Disclaimer:  
Claiming writer's prerogative, I've taken the liberty to mix and match characters and stories borrowed from the wonderful and rich Irish and Welsh mythologies and legends. Some of the facts and names are historical and I also played a little with some medieval (and even older) geography. Obviously none of those belong to me, and I did it with the utmost respect to the local folklore. The matrilineal legacy, though, is mine.

A/N: I am writing this story as a journey of legend, adventure, self-discovery and, of course, romance. All scenes have a particular purpose within the grand scheme of the tale, but they are also intended as playful entertaining during the journey.  
I truly hope I've been able to transmit that to the readers so far, and I thank very much all the nice reviews. As I've said before, they help to keep the muses awake :-)

On with the story then…

* * *

_**Chapter 19: The Dragon and The Crow**_

As soon as the Prince left with Lady Muriel, Merlin escaped the banquet undetected and rushed towards his rooms with the sole purpose of going back to sleep. Gaius was surely resting by now and so, hopefully, he might do the same.

To his surprise, however, he found the physician sitting at the table and immersed in a pile of books and manuscripts, studying and scribbling frantically.

"Merlin! I'm glad you are back so early. We have lots to do…"

The warlock was taken aback by the reception. Apparently, _someone_ had lost track of time.

"Is not that early, Gaius…" And then he realized what his mentor had said. "_We_?"

"Yes! I've found many interesting things, some of which could be really important, but we may need to work together to decipher all these…" He pointed to the pile of manuscripts. "…Before… When is it that the King will be sending the response to Leoness…"

Merlin shrugged. "I don't know…"

"More than a reason to hurry Merlin!" Gaius insisted.

The wizard sighed in defeat. It seemed that the stars were not conveniently aligned for him to find a repairing rest.

"All right then, what do you want me to do."

"Good boy. Here. I put together this primer… It may not be very complete but it'll be a start. Try to decipher this text while I finish this other."

* * *

They worked for hours and had to replace several sets of candles that kept burning out. Merlin's initial chagrin had morphed into genuine interest as he got wrapped up in his assignment.

The text Gaius had given him talked about a dragon—as far as his very rustic translation skills could gather—or, more specifically, the 'head' of the dragon and its union with a … a crow.

_A crow?  
_The young wizard arched his eyebrows.  
_Could that be?_

Well, that's what the symbols said at least according to Gaius' not-too-thorough primer… Still, it seemed a bit farfetched, so he'd better ask…

"Gaius… I don't think we're doing this right. I mean… how come a head of a dragon and a crow can be… united?"

The old scholar looked up immediately putting his quill down and grabbed Merlin's scribbles, his faced between worried and excited.

"It can't be…" He whispered.

"You mean… did I get it wrong? Because if so, then I must say that your primer is not very clear, you know and…"

But Gaius kept going back and forth between his papers and Merlin's without answering.

"Gaius?"

"You did it absolutely right Merlin! You are a genius!"

The warlock looked surprised.  
"Am I...?"

The old physician laughed merrily.  
"I cannot believe it!"

"Hey! Maybe not a genius, but I am quite handy!" Merlin complained seemingly affronted.

Gaius kept laughing. "That's not what I meant. And yes, you are a genius." He explained sobering up. "What I cannot believe is what we had just found…"

Merlin wished he knew what was it that _'they'_ had found out, but honestly he had no clue.

"Maybe you could tell me, so we_ both_ would know what you are talking about?"

"All right… Here it is." The physician took a deep breath reclining in his chair. "When you mentioned the name of Lady Finnabair earlier today, something came to my memory. Some old legends my father used to tell me when I was a child…"

Merlin rolled his eyes as if they were talking of some pre-historic times, to which Gaius admonished in pretended outrage.

"A bit more respect, young man, or I won't tell the story!"

The warlock shrugged his shoulders with an apologetic smile and his mentor continued.

"Anyways, the Goidelic manuscript you brought from Eleara coupled with the recollection of Finnabair's legend picked my interest since it seemed a very peculiar coincidence. So, I went to see Geoffrey and quite frankly had to turn the archives upside down to locate what I was looking for! All this…" He signaled again the pile of books and rolls surrounding them. "But when I finally did, I realized that I had found more than I was bargaining for: it seemed that the legendary Finnabair was a direct descendant of the Morrígan no less!"

Merlin had followed the explanation up until the last part, where his master had literally lost him.  
"The what?"

"The Morrígan; she was one of the first three daughters of Ernma, granddaughter of Nuada—or Nodens—and whom we call Nudd in this lands."

The warlock was feeling dizzy and he wasn't sure it was due to his lack of sleep anymore.  
"Gaius, I have no idea what you're talking about."

The expression in his mentor's face became very serious.  
"Merlin… _Nudd_ is one of the gods of the Old Religion. And not just anyone: he's the _King_ of the fair folks…"

Okay… things were getting interesting now. Merlin arched his eyebrows.  
"_Fair folks_ as in… fairies and magical creatures?"

Gaius nodded, pleased to have gotten his apprentice's undivided attention.  
"I had been searching in texts as old as Camelot itself to find references to this. I'm quite sure that visiting the interesting library in Eleara would have made my life easier." Pause. "But I'm digressing. In any case, I finally located some excerpts that seemed to have been copied from a manuscript called _Lebor Gabála Érenn."_

"_Lebor… gab…" _Merlin stuttered still wondering what was it that they had supposedly discovered.

"_Lebor Gabála Érenn." _His mentor repeated. "Which could be loosely translated as _The Book of Conquests_. It's a collection of legends and stories from a land beyond the sea."

"Beyond the sea? And how it ended up here…?"

"Of that I am not sure, and it is not too important right now. We can try and figure it out later. Let me finish what we know first: The Morrígan was a war goddess of those lands and she was famous for her beauty and implacable skills. The legend says that Morrígan established a strictly matrilineal legacy of warrior princesses."

"Strictly matrilineal?"

"Yes, the legacy is only passed from mother to daughter." Gaius explained. "And here it is the interesting part: it is said that every _other_ generation, a descendant born from this matrilineal line would also inherit one of the special powers of the goddess."

The warlock was now completely engrossed with the story.  
"So, you think that Lady Finnabair is…? Isn't she too young for that?"

Gaius chuckled.  
"Not Princess Gwynn per se, but her great-great-grandmother after whom you told me she was named. I believe _that's _the Finnabair the legend talks about."

That was disappointing… Merlin could have sworn that he had felt something strange when he touched the Princess' hand.

"Hum… I still do not see how..."

"Merlin, think about it: It is _not_ a mere coincidence that you found a remarkable resemblance of red hair and green eyes on some of the ladies whose portraits you saw. You said it yourself… they must have been _at least_ two generations apart of each other!"

Merlin nodded, still somehow clueless, and Gaius continued.

"I figured that if the first Finnabair—who _was_ _known_ to have Morrígan's powers as far as the legend goes, which I will relate to you in another moment—was the Princess' great-great-grandmother. Then Gwynn's _grandmother _must have inherited those powers too and… most likely, so did the Princess."

The warlock was trying to digest all this information, which—oddly enough—made a lot of sense, at least until his mentor continued very excited.

"And now, you found that a head of a dragon must unite with a crow… That's fantastic!"

All right… Perhaps _not too much_ sense after all.  
Maybe too little rest and too much reading had not been good for Gaius' brain… It would be better to call it the night… well, dawn as it were.

"Okay, Gaius… I think you need some rest… Let me help you and…"

"No, my boy. You don't understand… 'head of a dragon' is actually better translated as 'head dragon' or 'chief dragon'…" The old scholar paused to stress his next word. "_Pendragon_…"

That part certainly struck a nerve and caught the young warlock's full attention again.  
"Arthur…" He thought for a minute. "And the crow?"

"That's the symbol of the Morrígan …"

Merlin's blood froze.  
"You mean that..."

"Yes. It means that Gwynn _may be_ destined for Arthur after all…"

* * *

The warlock walked into the royal quarters still reeling from the previous night's discoveries. Things were indeed very complicated now.

Assuming that the legend was correct and that Princess Gwynn _was _destined for Arthur, the fact that she was a direct descendant of a goddess who was so tightly related to the Old Religion—and to the God-king of fair folks no less—would obviously pose an insurmountable problem.

_Mainly with the King._

Maybe that was the reason why she didn't want to marry Arthur… Though that still did not explain why her uncle had made the proposal if he was aware of such legacy.

His head was hurting badly. He was tired—_very_ tired—and moody; and had no idea how to go about all this.

He loathed admitting it, but a small part of him missed Kilgharrah. In situations like this—and in spite of his riddles—the great dragon could probably come handy.

A cold anger crept through his spine and he stopped in his track. The sole memory of all the hurt that freeing the fantastic beast had brought about made his mood darkened further. He had promised himself he wouldn't think of it anymore…

In top of that—he ruminated annoyed as he continued walking—he was almost sure he would have to face an angered Lady Muriel in the process of being dismissed from the royal quarters without a firm promise of engagement.  
In days like this, he _really_ hated his job.

To his surprise, however, the Prince was not only alone, but also awake and dressed.

"Good morning, Sire…" Merlin looked around seemingly confused. "You are alone…"

Arthur arched an eyebrow defiantly.  
"Yes, so?"

The royal temper didn't seem too good either, and the only part of the wizard's brain still working told him he should probably thread carefully…  
"I … just thought that I might find Lady Muriel here."

Arthur was having a bad morning already and this topic would not help to make it better.  
"She is not here, as you can see. And even if she were, it would most certainly be none of your business."

"_That's a first…"_ Merlin muttered between teeth.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing."

Looking more carefully at his manservant, Arthur noticed the dark circles under his eyes.  
"You look like you hadn't slept at all…"

"You can say that."

"Why is that?"

"I was working with Gaius"

The unusual edginess of both master and servant had charged the atmosphere of the room so much that even the slightest spark was bound to ignite a blaze.

Arthur's bad mood was looking for a way out, and unfortunately for Merlin, he was within shooting range.  
"Well… I'm sorry to hear that, as you'll have a full day ahead of you."

But before the Prince could start shouting orders, the warlock asked point-blank.  
"Have you told your father of your decision regarding Princess Gwynn?"

Her name alone completely shifted Arthur's attention and without even thinking of it, he answered.  
"Not yet."

Merlin noticed the change in the Prince's demeanor.  
_So, it seems that you do care more than you let on._

The warlock internally smiled, though he didn't dare to do so outwardly; not when his charge was in such contemptuous disposition.  
"And when are you going to do so?"

"Tonight."

That was odd… Arthur was actually responding… Go figure.  
Maybe he could just keep asking question before the Prince decided to stop answering.

"And what are you going to tell him?"

There was a long silence and Merlin thought that his winning strike of inquiries had ended. Thus, he was surprised when Arthur replied in a somber voice.

"I won't accept the proposal."

The sleep deprivation had undoubtedly skewed Merlin's sense of danger, and he didn't have a better idea than to comment...  
"Your father won't be happy…"

Arthur's rage finally exploded and the wizard regretted not having quit when he had been ahead.  
"Thanks for the heads up, Merlin… Do you think I _don't know_ that?"

And before his servant could say anything else, he growled.  
"Go and muck my horses' stalls!"

Great. That was exactly what Merlin needed.

The wizard left the royal quarters fuming. He had the keen intuition—_fear_ would possibly be a more accurate way to describe it—that something very important was balancing on the edge of a knife.  
But he couldn't exactly discern what…  
And that was frustrating.

The worst part, however, was that he _knew_ Arthur would eventually need _his help_ on this… whatever the quandary was…  
And yet he had been ordered to muck stables…  
_That_ was infuriating!

Maybe he should just turn the Prince into a frog and be done with it!


	20. Chapter 20: The mythical place

SAME DISCLAIMER AS IN CHAPTER 1

Thanks everyone for the nice reviews. They have a direct impact on the urge to update more often ;-)

* * *

_**Chapter 20: The mythical place**_

The anything-but-subtle crossed demeanor of his servant—along with his exasperated groan while leaving the quarters—left Arthur quite dumbfounded for a moment.

_What on Earth was wrong with Merlin?_

Lack of sleep usually affected only his friend's sharpness—or lack of thereof. But this obvious bad mood was something the Prince rarely saw.

He shrugged his shoulders. He'd got enough in his mind and his humor was sufficiently dark in its own right; he didn't have time to worry about Merlin's.

Arthur hadn't slept well either. As a matter of fact, he'd slept almost nothing at all.

After the banquet, he'd had every intention to bring Lady Muriel to his room… More often than not, the Prince's objective behind these fleeting liaisons was to let himself be adored and… coddled by some attractive lady—an always welcomed treat—and also to engage in some…pleasantly exhausting activities that usually helped him to rest better.

Lady Muriel was quite beautiful and—most importantly—quite enthusiastic, which made her a perfect prospect for the night. But when he had kissed her in the balcony, her eager lips had actually pushed him away.

Surprised and irritated at the same time, the Prince had realized that he couldn't get Gwynn's taste off his mouth. Out of nowhere, the Princess' eyes, lips, perfume… _all of her_ had inundated his senses isolating him from anyone else.

He had felt trapped and frustrated, and had withdrawn immediately. His companion had tried several girlish tricks to bring his attention back to her, but to little avail. His mood was gone for good, and he'd had no other option but to bid the lady good night and march to his rooms very angrily.

That had been a first for him and the novel experience definitely had _not_ suited him _at all!_

To make matters worse, he then had spent the night tossing around in his bed, perturbed and unable to sleep. If he'd thought that the infatuation with Gwynn was going to be just a passing fancy, he was bitterly discovering he'd been sorely mistaken.

The inner fight he had held throughout his restless night came rushing to his memory.  
Over and over, part of him had succeeded in making the case why it'd better to simply forget her and carry on with his bachelor life… only to be overridden by the other part that kept insisting on not giving up just yet.

Something had always been odd about this entire deal.  
Arthur knew that two of the reasons the King had given him—wealth and defense—were the logical ones his father would look for to make a marriage alliance with Camelot. _Any_ marriage alliance.

It was the third one, however, the one he hadn't been aware of—namely the sudden change of heart of the steward of Leoness—that intrigued him to no end.

He remembered the conversation with the Princess that fateful day at the ruins, when she said that marrying _him_ was '_an added inconvenience_'.

Despite the sudden fury her choice of words had provoked, he was now inclined to believe that there could be a valid argument behind them, even though he could not figure out what that would be.

He groaned loudly.  
He'd made his decision and he shouldn't dwell on that.  
The less he'd think about it, the better it would be.

But his brain and his memories of her did not seem to be willing to give him a break.  
It appeared that no matter how he looked at it, his motivations to pursue Gwynn overwhelmingly outweighed those to forget her.

Although he was quite certain he did not want to be married—_at least not now_—the truth was that if that were inevitable, he wouldn't mind if Gwynn were the one… If nothing else, he should be honest with himself about it.

The Prince seriously wondered about his sanity…

He was unquestionably more taken by her than he'd first thought and in spite of that he was going to give her up… Not to mention that he would be unleashing the wrath of his father at the same time.

He scoffed bitterly.  
Yes. He was most likely going stark raving mad.

There was no logic whatsoever in his decision. Yet, somehow, he felt as if he owed her that much, as absurd as the idea was.

His entire life Arthur had been prepared to sacrifice _anything_ for his beloved Camelot. And even if the concept of marriage had not been in his head too often—until recently as it were—he had always known that he wouldn't have any qualms in marrying a complete stranger for the sake of his kingdom, if or when the situation called for it…

Then again, in this case, the thought of imposing such obviously painful burden on Gwynn was more than his heart could take. And _that _was driving him even madder.

He rubbed his face in frustration.

The memory of her eyes was implanted in his brain. Her jasmine perfume was still fresh on his nostrils and the feeling of her auburn silky mane itched in his fingers.

He needed to stop thinking.  
Better yet, he needed to hit something.  
Donning his chainmail, he grabbed his sword and headed to the training fields.

* * *

Merlin had finished mucking the stables and was now even more tired and more frustrated than hours before. He rushed to his quarters to wash out the stink of manure off his body and clothes.

Gaius was nowhere to be seen and the warlock wondered if perhaps his mentor had fallen asleep on his way to his rounds. He washed and changed and looked at his bed dreamingly. Maybe he could just lie down for a bit…

The opening of the door distracted him for a moment and he peeked to see who that was, wishing with all his might that it was _not_ his obnoxious master.

It was Gaius instead, carrying another load of documents, rolls and books.  
_From where did this old man get his energy?_

"Oh, Merlin. I'm glad you're here my boy. I have very interesting and significant news."

At this point of the day, the warlock was quite sure nothing would pick his interest anymore. He just wanted to rest his sore muscles and overworked brain.

On the other hand, if last night's discovery was anything to go by to measure Gaius' excitement, then whatever his mentor had found now could only top that.

"What's that Gaius?" And then, realizing the fact. "Have you slept at all?"

"Merlin! Who can think of sleeping when there is so much going on!" His mentor's enthusiasm was quite evident.

"I can…" The youngster shrugged his shoulders, still thinking of how inviting his bed looked.

"Nonsense. Come here. Clean up the table so I can unroll this map."

The map in question was so old that Merlin did not recognized most of the names there.

"See there?" Gaius pointed a site on the coast. "That's Leoness."

The warlock read the inscription. "Gaius, I think you need new spectacles… That doesn't say Leoness… it says…" The writing was so faded that it was hard to make it out. "Gwy… Gwynllwg or something like that."

"Exactly." The old physician nodded. "This was a small kingdom named after the ancient ruler Gwynllyw, which fell in the hands of the invaders during the times of the great conquest."

He sat and continued talking.  
"It is said that a local group of Celt warriors, the Silures, never surrendered and continued challenging the foreign army the best they could. Then, one day, a warrior princess from a land beyond the sea arrived to help the Silures in a final revolt against the invasion. A long string of bloody battles ensued."

Merlin kept his blank expression and his mentor carried on.

"The legend says that she fought so well and fiercely that she came to be known as the _Leonessa _in the tongue of the invaders; the word means _lioness_ since apparently she was a force to be reckoned with. After her victories, the land was thereafter known as Leoness."

When Merlin opened his mouth to ask about the relevance of all this, Gaius interrupted.  
"Her name was Maeve; she married a Silurian commander and gave birth to the first Finnabair."

Merlin was trying to process this new load of information when something else came to mind.  
"What about _that_ Finnabair then? You never mentioned the legend your father told you."

"Oh. Yes. Following the reclaim of the lands by its rightful regents, Leoness grew to be rich and powerful, thus turning into a much-desired target for enemy nations. Legend has it that when Finnabair became of age, she developed the power to control the winds. And it is said that when a great fleet of barbarians was about to attack Leoness' harbor to conquer the country, she changed the winds so they could never reach the coast nor go back to their lands and thus perished of starvation on their ships."

The wizard arched his eyebrows. That was some power!

Gaius assented to the silent yet obvious comment.  
"Yes indeed… After that, no other invader dared to try and take the country by sea. It is said that the winds over Leoness are still under her power… Though I surmise that's just folktale."

Magical powers were more interesting for Merlin than history, particularly when he was so drawn out. So he pursued that avenue.

"So, you think that these princesses… The ones with powers, do they have magic?"

"I don't know Merlin. Most of the texts refer to some sort of _special_ powers, such as foresight or power over the elements than actual _magical_ ones. Then again, it might just be my rough translation. Why'd you ask?"

"Because when I touched the hand of Princess Gwynn, I am sure I _felt_ something. I can't describe it nor identify it… But something was there."

"Well, I am not sure… The texts did say that the Morrigan's descendants are awarded their powers when they come of age in a secret ritual performed by the mother. But I wonder… since the princess' mother died when she was a child, maybe the princess is not even aware of that."

Merlin was silent… His instincts were rarely wrong on that arena… Nevertheless, he wanted to know what else had Gaius so excited today.

"All right… Princess Gwynn is the descendant of a long-line of warrior princesses and her country is named after the dubbing the invaders gave to one of her ancestors… And the first Finnabair could control the wind. That does not seem to be more relevant that what we found last night…"

"Aha! Look at here… Can you see this village there, in the outskirts of Leoness?"

"Mo… Moridunum"

"Moridunum was called in the times of the great conquest. It was thereafter known as Caerfyrddin…" Then Gaius' voice changed into a compassionate tone. "That's where your father and ancestors come from…"

The warlock was taken aback by this new revelation and he felt something warm inside at the memory of his father… As miniscule as the tidbit of information might have been, it meant a lot to him. There it was, another piece of history about the man he only knew for a brief moment.

Still caught in the emotion caused by the unexpected reminiscence, he smiled after a pause.  
"It is quite a coincidence…"

Fully aware of what such disclosure had meant for his disciple, the old physician shook his head softly.

"I don't think it is coincidence Merlin… After everything we've found, I don't believe in coincidences anymore…" Gaius smiled sympathetically. "Don't you see? Everything is making sense now… Your lineage and hers hail from the same mythical place…!"

Merlin nodded slightly, somehow beginning to understand the importance of the fact after all, and his mentor pursued.

"You are supposed to help Arthur to unite the land, so Albion can be born… and that now includes making sure he marries the Celt princess."

Not fully convinced of that bit, the wizard narrowed his eyes.  
"And you are _sure_ that Princess Gwynn is _that_ Celt princess…"

The old scholar nodded solemnly.  
"I finished translating the text you've started last night. The one that spoke of the prophecy of the dragon and the crow..." Gaius paused briefly to ensure he had his pupil's undivided attention. "That prophecy was written by no other than Princess Gwynn's _grandmother_, Fedelm, who had the gift of foresight... The prophecy goes onto saying that Albion would rise from Camelot when his greatest King unites with a Celt queen… Specifically, a Silurian one."

All right… _that_ sounded quite irrefutable according to Merlin.  
Another earnest moment of silence paid homage to such major discovery. Then his fears and concerns came out and he cleared his throat; it was high time for a reality check.

"Ehem… Gaius, I think you might be forgetting a small detail… If this Princess has magical powers or something of sorts, not to mention her linage intertwined with the Old Religion… Don't you think that… Oh… I don't know… Uther _may_ have a problem with it?"

The physician paid no regard to the sarcastic comment of his pupil.  
"This goes far beyond Uther, Merlin!" He emphasized. "This is about Albion's, Arthur's, and your own destiny…"

Gaius paused to allow the young warlock to process the importance of what he just said.

"Think about it… The Great Dragon said that one day, magic _will_ return to Camelot… Princess Gwynn may just be the final missing piece of the puzzle."

In truth, Merlin did not recall ever seeing his mentor so willing to dismiss Uther's views against magic. If anything, Gaius had always been cautious; overly so, as a matter of fact.

And now, however, he was suggesting… or rather _insisting_ on bringing to Camelot a Princess with such lineage… The wizard was still unsure.

"What about Arthur then? I cannot even disclose who I really am to him and you are telling me he should marry a magical Princess? Truly, Gaius, are you sure you are all right?"

His mentor dismissed the issue as if they were talking about the weather.  
"Rubbish… Camelot will eventually know who you really are. Kilgharrah said it many times and you know it… As per Arthur, you told me he was quite taken with the Princess, so either she is not aware of who she truly is, or she can really control her powers…"

Merlin was still doubtful and his master grabbed his shoulders reassuringly.  
"I am not saying it will be easy, Merlin… But we need to have faith in the great destiny that awaits you and Arthur."

After another moment of contemplation, Merlin conceded that it might be so. After all, he should be used to far-fetched, impossible missions by now. Then, he remembered.

"But tonight Arthur will tell the King that he will reject the marriage proposal..."

"Then you must hurry and prevent that!" The old man reacted immediately. "You need to convince Arthur that he should marry her."

Sighing in defeat—and exhaustion—the wizard objected.  
"Gaius, even if I could convince Arthur—unlikely in his present mood—you are forgetting that he is _not_ the bigger problem. _She_ is. _She_ does not want to marry _him_, for whatever reason."

"In that case, your mission is to make sure that she _does_ want to marry him."

"Oh, yes?" As much as Merlin hated sarcasm, particularly because he was usually at the receiving end of it, he felt that the request called for it. "And how am I going to do _that _from here?"

His mentor didn't seem concerned at all and only shrugged his shoulders.

"Then you need to go to Leoness..."


	21. Chapter 21: A royal dare

SAME DISCLAIMER AS IN CHAPTER 1

Thanks everyone for the nice reviews (really, I'm humbled by your praises). They also make me want to update even more often... But so far, I'm doing the best I can considering that I still have to work, as Nesota so wisely pointed (haven't won the lottery yet) ;-)

But please, keep them coming :-)

* * *

_**Chapter 21: A royal dare**_

Merlin was cursing his luck. Apparently, it was not enough that he had faced dragons, witch-hunters, revengeful priestesses and the likes…  
Now he had to play Cupid too!

To start with, having to convince a proud Arthur to go to Leoness after being rejected was in and of itself a humongous undertaking. And it was only the beginning!

Assuming he could succeed on that portion of the mission, it would then involve trying to convince an _allegedly_ magical Princess that the arrogant heir of Camelot would be a perfect match for her… _And_, that her future father-in-law would have _no issues_ whatsoever with her lineage and powers.

The more he thought about it, the more impossible—and absurd—Gaius' idea looked.  
He finally reached the royal quarters and took a deep breath before getting in.

"Merlin! Is there_ ever_ going to be a time when you'll knock before entering my chambers?"

_Maybe when you're married_, the warlock though amused, but obviously didn't dare to verbalize it. Instead, he let out a surprised  
"You're bathed already!"

"Not thanks to you!" The Prince was already donning his undershirt. "Fortunately, you are not the only servant in this castle who can prepare a bath… Although possibly the only one who can in fact mess it up."

"Hey! You sent me to muck the stables!"

"And did you actually do it?" Arthur asked suspiciously taking on his servant's clean appearance.

"Of course I did!" The warlock retorted affronted. "Except that I also had to go and wash, otherwise you'd be complaining that I smell of manure!"

Arthur shut up; Merlin did have a point there and he bit his inner cheek to prevent a laugh. He would never acknowledge it, but the bantering with his servant-friend was usually an excellent way to distract him when something was tensing him up…Whether a duel, a battle… or the imminent meeting with his father, as in this case.

The brutal training of the day had paid its dividends. Well… at least for him, some of his knights were most likely still recovering from it …

The Prince swallowed another smile again. Not only his mood had improved considerably, but he had also come up—finally—with a proposal of his own, and he was fairly confident that he could convince his father of its benefits.

On the other side of the room, and without a plan since his brain was too fried to produce one, Merlin decided to go for the blunt approach and hope for the best. While handing the over-shirt to his charge, he took the opportunity.

"I was thinking…"

"Don't do that, Merlin… You know you just hurt yourself…"

"Ha…ha, very funny. No, seriously, I think you should not reject the offer…"

Arthur arched an eyebrow. That came out of the blue…  
"All right Merlin… I know you haven't slept and only for that reason I will pretend that you just did not put your nose into my personal affairs."

Too tired to even worry about consequences, the wizard just wanted to be done with it.  
"No, really… Think about it. If you refuse it now, you will make your father angry _AND_ you will miss the opportunity to discover the truth about the Princess… I mean, aren't you at least a bit curious about all the strange things surrounding this deal?"

The last part picked Arthur's interest a little and he pondered his options.  
He could listen and see where his nonsensical servant was headed with this... Or he could shut Merlin up by drowning him on the tub…

Being that he had a well thought-out plan already and that would likely not change, he could indulge in his servant's babblings while he readied himself.  
"I see that you have given the matter some thoughts …"

The Prince's pretended serious demeanor didn't convince Merlin at all. Although the warlock could not fathom why, his charge's mood seemed to be quite different from the one he was carrying in the morning…

Whatever the case, he did not have much time so he continued with his line of persuasion…  
"Also, you have to remember that you _will_ have to marry some day, right?"

"In one or two decades… Maybe." Arthur dismissed; but the warlock carried on as if nothing had been said.

"And I figure that rather than doing so with a perfect stranger… at least now you know Princess Gwynn… _And_ you like her already…" He paused and then went on with what he _hoped_ was a suggestive tone. "She _is_ very beautiful and smart..."

Arthur turned around, occupied on fixing his belt.  
"Don't forget stubborn and opinionated."

"_Look who's talking_" Merlin chewed, rolling his eyes.

"What?"

"Nothing… I mean… She likes the outdoors and adventures, just like you… Isn't that something?"

Frowning, his master faced him this time.  
"Yes! And she's also reckless and irresponsible!"

Merlin's eyebrows shot up and a smug smile lightened his weary face…

The Prince looked at him confused. "What ?"

"Wow… You _really_ like her!"

Arthur shot him a deadly glare, which didn't account for much being that he was blushing like a schoolboy. In any case, it was time to finish this repartee. His face became somber for real at his next statement.

"She doesn't want to marry me, Merlin."

Oh, yes… that. The wizard was trying to think of some sharp remark, but sadly discovered that most of his brain had already left the premises, and thus he could only stutter.  
"But… But… You don't even believe that, do you?"

The Prince remained silent and Merlin knew that if his charge were to disengage from the conversation now, he would fail miserably. In one desperate attempt, he breathed in and went directly to the point.

"I think you should go to Leoness and see everything with your own eyes before deciding what to do. It's yours and Camelot's future after all."

Arthur looked at him with an inscrutable expression first. Then, a shadow of a grin appeared in the royal face and something akin to amusement shone in his eyes.

Unsure of whether that meant good or bad news, the warlock remained expectant, thinking that perhaps he should have started simply with that. An utter disappointment flooded his chest, though, when the Prince finished in a calmed and conclusive voice:

"I've made my decision, Merlin. Clean up my room and then go and wait our table."

* * *

Since the beginning of the dinner the silence had been so thick it could have been cut with a blade. For such an important meeting, it seemed as if a giant wall had been erected in the middle of that table distancing father and son even more.

In contrast with Arthur's surprisingly composed demeanor, the King looked quite tensed and Merlin reckoned that Uther might have been suspecting the upcoming answer and was preparing himself for yet another battle of wills with the Prince.

When the anxiety appeared to have reached intolerable levels, Uther finally asked, his tone suggesting that his patience was hanging from a thin thread.  
"What's your decision Arthur? Do I send our acceptance to Ruther?"

Arthur took a sip of his cup, slowly and meticulously, delaying his answer on purpose. The teaching of one of his old tutors came handy, and for once, he could actually put into practice the lesson of '_never negotiate with passion'_.  
"No, father." He answered, measuring his father's reaction.

The King's face lost all colors and his eyes became deadlier.  
"I beg your pardon…"

Leisurely, the Prince lifted his hand to appease his father.  
"Please, let me finish. I have given the matter much thought, and I think I have a mutually agreeable solution."

Making a tremendous effort to comply, Uther acquiesced.  
"I'm listening."

"Out of all the reasons you gave me yesterday regarding your choice of Leoness, the commercial and military grounds are simply the basic requirements for any arrangement of this kind. Therefore, we could pick and choose from a number of kingdoms who could provide the same benefits, correct?"

The King only nodded, still on guard.

"It occurred to me that you are favorably inclined to this particular proposal due to the sudden decision of the steward to marry his niece after years of rejecting offers…"

"Go on…"

"Although the treaty is perfectly legitimate, I would not want to blindly accept an offer, particularly one as… unexpected as this, without additional verification first." Arthur continued in his best regal and dispassionate tone. "After all, the future of Camelot hinges on this arrangement."

Uther's eyes had been narrowing progressively. It was evident that his son had a point and was inexorably driving to it.  
"And what do you propose then?"

The Prince took another sip of his cup. He knew his composed manners were throwing his father off balance and he inwardly congratulated himself.

"_I_ will take the answer to Leoness. In this way, I can be sure that the Steward is truthful in his intentions and at the same time, I can meet my intended."

From his corner in the room Merlin almost jumped and his eyes opened like two moons. Had Arthur been listening to him after all?

Pondering the option for a moment, the King admitted that it was a sensitive one and, truth be told, he was quite proud of his son putting so much thought on this for the sake of the kingdom.  
"It is reasonable."

But the Prince was not done yet. It was time for the checkmate.  
"However, you will have to trust me on this father." Arthur challenged with a royal glare. "If while in Leoness I find _any_ reason at all to deem the agreement inconvenient, I _will_ refuse it."

Uther inhaled sharply. It seemed that his son had thought the affair _very well_ indeed. For a brief second, the fatherly part of him had the nagging suspicion that Arthur might be just plotting to reject the treaty simply because he didn't want to be married.

One careful look at the Prince, however, and he instantly dismissed the idea. His son was a grown man; a warrior Prince respected and loved by everyone, and he would do _anything_ for Camelot. Of that, the King was completely sure.

It was albeit a certainly strange feeling to… delegate such royal decision.

Uther had always known that the day would come when he would abdicate the throne to his son. And although such day had seemed very far away, all of the sudden it appeared closer than he'd imagined. And for the first time, the mighty King felt the weight of the years past on his shoulders.

After minutes that felt like hours—at least for Merlin—the older Pendragon shook his head amused. Whether Arthur had outplayed him or not was beside the point. The reality was that his beloved son was actually _daring_ him to trust him and he would not back up from that challenge.

"I trust you Arthur. I know that you will do whatever is best for Camelot. You have my blessing son."

* * *

While walking back to the chambers, Merlin could not hide his excitement.  
"Are we going to Leoness then?"

"Yes, we are." Though still serious, his master seemed much more relaxed.

"So, you were listening to me before the…"

The Prince scoffed and looked at him like he was mad.  
"Of course not! I've made that decision today while practicing on the fields!"

"Oh…"

In spite of the momentary disappointment, the warlock then understood the strange expression of Arthur before he went to dinner. The Prince _had been_ listening to him… It just happened that he'd come to the same conclusion earlier on.

Though it was a small consolation, the idea that both had been thinking along the same lines still brought a satisfied smile to Merlin's face. Not to mention that he'd effectively succeeded in the initial part of his mission, and without much effort, come to think of it… Maybe fate _was _playing its part after all…

Having been following his servant's expressions with blatant hilarity, Arthur couldn't help the pun.  
"Do not look so pleased with yourself. Your idea came too late anyway!"

After two days of sleep deprivation, the warlock couldn't care less about his master's sarcasm. He knew what he knew...

"Of course." He smiled smugly.

The Prince only groaned and muttered something unintelligible, but the high spirits had settled once again between both friends; each thinking now of the upcoming adventure.

"Go to sleep, Merlin" Arthur commanded. "You're by and large incompetent when fully awake, so don't even get me started on your sleep-deprived services."

Before his master changed his mind, the warlock was already at the door. Oh… how well he'd sleep tonight!  
"Thanks!"

But just as he was leaving, the Prince added.  
"And make sure to come to work bright and early tomorrow. We have lots of things to do before leaving…" He paused for a minute. "And we have to find the proper gift for the Princess."

Merlin frowned in confusion.  
"Proper gift? You mean… as in… jewelry?"

A devilish smiled crowned Arthur's lips.  
"No. As in… a _horse_."

* * *

A/N: Next stop... Leoness


	22. Chapter 22: Leoness

SAME DISCLAIMER AS IN CHAPTER 1

I am glad to see new readers adding their reviews, and I thank you all very much for that.  
To my regular reviewers, your words of encouragement mean a world to me. Your permanent support has undoubtedly helped this story to continue growing, and thus you all have my deepest gratitude.

To everyone then: please, keep the feedback coming :-)

This is the longest chapter yet, but I wanted to share with you some images of Leoness... I hope you like it.

* * *

_**Chapter 22: Leoness**_

The late summer-early autumn weather had been extremely clement with the Camelot entourage throughout the past four days of riding. They still had at least one more day to go and except for two encounters with random tugs, which had been no match for the Knights, they had had a quite uneventful journey.

King Uther had insisted in a formal diplomatic mission and Arthur had not wanted to push his luck any further by arguing the order. Therefore, he'd taken Sir Leon and his squadron—a total of a dozen Knights—the royal scribe carrying the treaty documents and of course, Merlin, who had been particularly chirpy during the entire trip, much to Arthur's annoyance.

The first part of the route had been very well known for the Prince and the warlock, as it was the path that had led them to Eleara not long ago. When crossing the familiar landscape, Arthur had pretended not to hear some meaningful comments from Merlin regarding sweet memories and whatnot. Though the wizard's choice of words had been cryptic enough so the other members of the party couldn't understand what he was talking about, the Prince had understood them well and had only been able to glare at his manservant willing him to shut up.

Already within Leoness territory and after passing the entrance to Eleara, their journey had taken them closer to the seashore where the coastal winds had brought relief to the previously misty forest environment. Steep valleys covered with woods sliced the cliffs of the high coastline, and the rare sight of woodland and seashore mingling on the pebbled beaches was simply spellbinding.

The ride through that fantastic route had been a fairly short one until they found the first garrison. The fort was located across the only possible path between the cliff and a rocky wall, and it was evident to Arthur that the unique geographic location of the kingdom provided an unparalleled natural defense.

Based on what he had seen so far, the Prince had to admit that perhaps the military contributions from other kingdoms would not easily match the ones that Leoness could provide. In the event of a marriage alliance, Leoness could take good care of those borders and Camelot could reallocate many of the resources to some others in more dire need.

_You had a point there, father_. He thought amused.

The commander of the post had been expecting envoys or messengers from Camelot to arrive around this time, but he was more than slightly surprised at the size of the diplomatic mission and, primarily, the fact that the Prince of Camelot himself was leading the company.

Their stop at the post was a short one and by nightfall of the same day they arrived at a second garrison, Caer-Maeve, which was even larger than the first one.

As Arthur had suspected, word had previously been sent from the first fort. By the time they had reached the second, thus, the local commander—a large and jolly man named Sir Eadfrid—was expecting them with food and accommodations, already made aware of the royal presence. According to the commander, the citadel was still half day away so Arthur decided to spend the night on Caer-Maeve and leave before dawn.

The following morning the Prince woke up earlier than everyone, having slept very little for some reason. Arthur was sure that, by then, word of his arrival had most likely reached the Steward too, and he couldn't help but wonder whether the news had reached the Princess as well.

The thought of seeing her again made his heart beat like a wild horse in his chest. He was certainly not used to anxiety and it was not a feeling he would usually welcome. However, in this case, maybe the cause was worth it…

Would she know of his visit by now?  
What would she be thinking?  
More importantly… What would she be _feeling_?

He didn't realize he was smiling until Merlin's voice brought him back to reality.  
His servant was looking at him amused.

"She is not Princess Gwynn, you know?"

It took a moment for Arthur to understand the pun. He'd been absently caressing the nose of the mare he was bringing for Gwynn.

The embarrassment of what he reckoned had been his smitten expression was only surpassed by the embarrassment—and utmost chagrin, of course—of being discovered by no other than Merlin. He'd never hear the end of it...

Between teeth, making sure that the rest of the company wouldn't hear, Arthur warned.  
"I swear Merlin… If you utter another word about the Princess I will hang you from the cliffs so the seagulls can eat you alive!"

"Wow… You're getting creative with your threats… It must be the new scenery." Though the words were mumbled, the Prince did hear them and walked away swallowing a grin.

Truth was that Merlin had been having a great time ever since the dinner between father and son when the trip had been decided… and, admittedly, the subsequent good night sleep.

The warlock had no idea what to expect once they'd arrive in Leoness, but his curiosity about the Princess' heritage, coupled with the knowledge that his father came from these lands as well, had made him very excited about the trip… And then there was the fact that it had been quite funny seeing Arthur anxious, in spite of the Prince's emphatic denials.

In reality, though, and despite his barely disguised anticipation, the Prince had been focused and organized while preparing his leave for what it could potentially be a substantial amount of time. His royal-mode in full gear, Arthur had spoken at length with Sir Lancelot and left him in charge of the King's and Camelot's protection. Even though the stubborn monarch still hadn't warm up to the Knight, Arthur knew that no other would defend his kingdom with the abnegation of Lancelot.

But what had entertained Merlin the most had been, by far, the attention his master had devoted to the search for the perfect horse to bring to his Princess. They had visited the best stables in Camelot and none of the horses had pleased the Prince enough.

"_It cannot be that everything we have in the Kingdom worth a price are chargers!" Arthur had complained._

"_Chargers?" Merlin had asked._

"_Yes, war-horses. Destriers, rounceys… Charges, you know?" Looking at his servant's absent expression, he had answered the question himself "Of course you don't…" _

_The warlock had shrugged his shoulders.  
_"_As long as they have four-legs and can carry me, I thought that was enough."_

"_Shut up, Merlin."_

_Finally, after going in circles from stable to stable without making a decision, one of the owners suggested a horse trainer who lived in one of the outskirt villages. According to the stable-man, the trainer did not have stables per se, but for time to time he managed to get some good bred horses._

_And there they went... _

_Merlin had been smiling in silence the entire trip, by virtue of the latest 'request' from his master. Nonetheless, the Prince had sworn he could still 'hear' Merlin's thoughts and they were loud enough to annoy him. _

_His servant was laughing inwardly at Arthur's threats and deadly glares as they had reached the humble house. It was a new and quite hilarious experience for Merlin seeing the Prince in such strange mood…_

"_I believe I have what you want, your highness" The man had been ecstatic at the unexpected royal visit. "I bred her myself; her mother was a fine palfrey and her father my best and faster courser… She's got the gait of her mother and the speed of her father, Sire."_

_As soon as Arthur saw the horse he smiled and Merlin sighed relieved. They had found it!_

_The warlock had to admit that the long and thorough search had been justified: it was a stunning horse._

_She was a beautiful red dun mare. The elegance of the smooth, amble gait was exquisite and the rich red color of the mane and tail made her stand out from the rest of the herd. _

"_She ain't too trained yet, sire… Maybe in a month…"_

"_I can't wait for a month. I will take her now."_

"_But Sire… she's quite feisty, willful to a fault … If you mean her for a lady, she's not ready yet."_

_Arthur grinned and this time it was Merlin who could read the royal thoughts. A feisty, willful horse was exactly what the Prince had in mind. After all, the intended rider was not too easy herself. _

"_Don't worry. I'll make sure she's well trained and taken care of." Arthur had said still smiling at his own thoughts. "I didn't know you were such a good breeder. Maybe I'll call upon you in the future."_

* * *

While riding into the outlier towns surrounding the citadel Arthur realized that the other reason his father had mentioned—riches—was obviously a weighty one as well. Judging by the thriving movement of the markets, this was indeed a wealthy kingdom.

As they moved inside the more populated areas, the buzzing of the crowd increased considerably, particularly in front of the entrance of a very active harbor where sailors, merchants and officers were about doing business.

The activity of the towns was so intense that even the entrance of the Camelot cavalry did not stop too many bystanders from their dealings. Though the red-caped mighty warriors were a sight to behold, only a couple of curious glances here and there acknowledged their presence through the busy streets.

It was quite a peculiar experience, compared with the more tranquil, country-like pace of Camelot, where anything out of the ordinary was likely bound to gather a crowd.

When the company finally crossed the last drawbridge, local officers with the royal insigne of Leoness joined them accompanying the riders side-by-side the rest of the way; one soldier flanking each Knight.

Clearly the purpose of the greeting squadron was two-fold: a welcome party and a security one. And Arthur knew he had been correct: the royal house was already expecting them.

His pulse quickened at the thought of the Princess. Soon, he'd see her again…

The castle itself was not as big as Camelot's, but perhaps more opulent. It was quite evident that wealth was something this relatively small kingdom had in spades, and the Prince reckoned that commerce through the harbor was something Camelot could certainly benefit from.

"_And yet, you were right again father"_.

Thinking amused of the two valid reasons he had just briefly assessed—and for which Uther had been right on target—Arthur wondered about the third one: the mysteriously sudden decision of the Steward. That would likely be more difficult to validate, if possible at all…

Outside one of the wings of the castle, a long line of peasants starkly contrasted with the maze of richly dressed courtiers and officials walking around in the main courtyard. Arthur turned his head, curious at the strange view, and following his gaze the companion officer explained politely.

"Today is the day that Princess Gwynn holds her regular audiences for the people."

Arthur smiled and shook his head…  
Whether by thoughtful planning or simple coincidence, his stubborn Lady had managed to avoid attending the reception party.  
Very well then, he will see her later...

The Steward was waiting at the top of main stairs. He was a small man with a thin and long nose, and unusually narrow eyes.

"Prince Arthur! Welcome to Leoness… My house is honored to receive you, as well as your Knights!"

"Sir Ruther…" Arthur squared his shoulder and nodded respectfully. "The honor is ours."

They measured each other for a moment and the Prince decided he did not like the Steward at all. The older man had very cold, almost evil eyes and nothing in his demeanor appeared remotely honest or caring. Not only that, but Arthur had the acute awareness that underneath the friendly façade, the Steward was not happy to see _him_ either.

"I trust you'd had a pleasant trip?"

"We did, thank you. And we have also already experienced Leoness' famous hospitality in both your garrisons. The commanders were certainly wonderful hosts."

The Steward smiled an absolutely faked smile.  
"I am glad." And after a small pause he continued. "I must say that although I was expecting envoys from your father, I had not imagined that you would be coming here yourself."

_I am sure you hadn't. _

"Indeed." Arthur plastered his best polite smile on his face. "But given the nature of this treaty, my father and I felt that it would be important to have firsthand knowledge of the terms."

Ruther arched an eyebrow slightly. The presence of the Prince was a major deviation of his original plan, but as things were, he would have to rearrange the strategy and proceed towards the ultimate goal, whatever the price. Speaking of the little she-devil…

"I am sorry my niece is not here at this moment. Since we were not certain of the exact time of your arrival, she insisted in _not_ cancelling her audiences today and… " He stopped looking over Arthur's shoulder. "Oh, Sir Lescaut… Please tell Princess Gwynn that her presence is required right now. Our visitors have arrived and she shall meet them in the throne room _immediately_." He stressed in a tone that did not sit very well with the Prince.

Arthur turned to face Lescaut's blank expression and loathing eyes. It was evident that the guard hadn't warmed up to him; not that he was expecting any different. However, before the soldier walked back to fulfill the order, the Prince spoke.

"If I may, Sir Ruther, I would not wish to distract the Princess from her audiences on my account." He smiled politely trying to dismiss the deadly glare that suddenly appeared in the Steward's eyes. "I find her interest in her people quite endearing, as a matter of fact. It is _always_ a good quality in royal ladies." He stressed to appease the not-so-subtle anger of Ruther. "Therefore, and I assure you it is not my intention to overstep my boundaries here, if you were thinking of me, Sir, please do not worry. I can meet your niece later."

Ruther narrowed his small eyes. He hated being overruled more than anything in the world, but at the moment, the Prince seemed honest enough and if this caprice of Gwynn would serve the ultimate purpose of shipping her to Camelot, then so be it.

"It is quite gracious of you to dismiss her absence in this fashion Prince. It seems that I've chosen correctly."

_And I still would like to know why... _Arthur retorted mentally, but just nodded politely.

"Very well then. You can go Lescaut but tell my niece she _will_ meet us as soon as she is done."

Sir Lescaut nodded to both royals, and this time Arthur could clearly see a slight light of approval in the eyes of the soldier. Who knew…, he might still be able to convince Gwynn's guard of his good intentions. Maybe. He wouldn't hold his breath, just in case.

The Steward still annoyed voice interrupted his mental wanderings.  
"Please, Prince Arthur, let us go into the throne room."

* * *

Gwynn had decided not to change to meet the Prince. She was usually sober in her attire when meeting the peasants, finding no reason to rub wealth and luxury on their poor and hungry noses. Her uncle disapproved of that too, naturally. And she was sure he would be angry at her showing up in anything but her best and more opulent royal robes. She reckoned she could always argue lack of time if needed be… Thought at this point, she truly didn't care.

The day had been just too eventful …

Early in the morning, Helene had met her with the news that the envoys of Camelot would be there soon… _and_ that Prince Arthur was leading the party. Her heart had stopped beating for a moment.

Arthur's presence could only mean one thing: Camelot had accepted the proposal… Then again, the treaty did say that she would be going to reside in Camelot until their wedding. Thus, perhaps…

No. She shouldn't hope anymore. Her fate had been decided already and the tiny hope she'd kept after Eleara was gone for good now.

In top of that, later on the day she had had a discussion with her uncle, who had ordered her to cancel the audiences. The Princess had been adamant in her answer. _Her_ people, she had remarked fueling his uncle ire, was counting on her; and if by virtue of this marriage she was soon going to be _their queen_, more than a reason to listen to them.

On a more selfish level, she needed to do something to distract her from her increasing anxiety. She loved helping her subjects and in this case, she thought, they would be helping her as well… Thus her position had been inflexible: she would_ not_ cancel it and she would meet the entourage when they reach the castle.

Probably the only reason she got away with it was that during the discussion, several nobles and advisers had been present and thus Ruther had no other option but to acquiesce. And Gwynn knew that very well.

She couldn't say if it was the presence of the Prince that gave her this rebellious strike of courage or the knowledge that the fate of her people was far more important than her own predicament. Whatever the reason, it had served her purpose and she didn't care either. And for once, _not_ caring felt deliciously liberating given the circumstances.

When the royal audiences were finally over, Gwynn's attention shifted from the plights of her most needy subjects to her own, and found herself overly thrilled about facing the Prince once more. It was a terribly confusing situation: she dreaded his visit and what it meant for her future… yet couldn't help her heart to soar to incredible heights at the thought of seeing him again… The bewilderment caused by those conflicting emotions made the self-pity for her fate virtually disappear.

Walking into the throne room, the Princess pushed back her shoulders and lifted her chin. Her uncle's eyes glared at her, as she knew it would happen, but her gaze moved quickly to the golden head and broad back of the Prince.

"Gwynn, how nice of you to join us dear niece." The welcoming phrase was as warm as the winter sea.

Arthur turned promptly. Their eyes locked and for an instant, nothing else existed in the room but each other.

He looked so handsome, so regal in his chainmail and armor.  
So… mighty.

Her mouth dried out when her throat contracted in anticipation, and she unconsciously wetted her lips.  
The memory of his arms and his lips came rushing to her and she would have given _anything _at that moment to run into his arms and ask him to kiss her again.

The furious blush her thoughts provoked didn't go unnoticed for the Prince.  
Out of all the possible receptions Arthur could have imagined, this one had surpassed all his expectations…  
Her eyes… the moistening of her lips…

He could read her emotions like an open book and the irrefutable proof that he was _so_ obviously _not_ indifferent to her brought about all sort of mischievous thoughts... and some physical reactions as well.

Gods, she was beautiful…

The crown on her head left no doubt about her title; yet the austere attire, clearly chosen to face the lowliest of her subjects, left no doubt about her _heart_… Arthur felt his chest growing wider and feared it might explode of pride.

Whether by fate or sheer luck, this wonderful woman was _his_ intended… He just needed to convince her of it.

His hands were itching to touch her again and he had to breathe in to calm his anxiety, noticing that she had done the same from where she stood.

Meanwhile, the steward had been watching their reaction with interest. Unaware of what had transpired between the two royals, he just assumed that their reaction was a logical one under these circumstances. According to him, it seemed that the outside appearance of the two youngsters was doing its part. Good.

"Gwynn, let me introduce Prince Arthur from Camelot."

Arthur moved towards her and kissed the hand she had extended. He was careful to keep it very polite and detached, but as soon as their skins touched, the familiar bolt of electricity cursed through his body once again... And judging by her scarcely concealed reaction, she had felt exactly the same.

"It is a pleasure to make you acquaintance Princess."

"Likewise, Sire."

The steward interrupted.  
"We shall have a banquet tonight when we'll introduce the Prince, _your__ intended_, to the entire court."

After the initial emotion of seeing the handsome knight again, Gwynn's brain reacted to her uncle's words. So, she had been correct and the Prince had accepted the offer after all. She berated herself for her naïveté of holding onto a romantic hope that was now washed away like the sand castles she used to build on the beach as a child.

Her cold tone came back and she looked at her… suitor with a piercing stare.  
"Am I officially your intended then, Sire?"

Arthur tried not to smile fully aware of her flustered irritation on one hand, and the fact that the Steward was closely following the exchange on the other. He would get her alone… eventually, and they would… _fix… _this attitude of hers.

The inner promise didn't do much to calm down his once again stirred up senses. The look in his eyes, though, was significant enough when he answered and made her flushed further.

"It is not fully decided yet, my lady. But a Prince can always hope…"

For different reasons, both uncle and niece were surprised at the Prince's words. What '_not fully decided_' could possibly mean?

However, none of them dared to question at the moment, and each thought the best way to get the Camelot heir to explain his choice of words later on…

The last thing the steward wanted at this point was for his niece to get too haughty and disenchant the Prince right from the start. The young Pendragon obviously liked what he saw so far, and it would be best to leave things as they were for now.

Tonight at the party, he'd make sure that his best wines and a carefully coiffed Princess—he would have to command that—would do the rest and close the deal.

"Well then. I am sure the Prince would like to be shown to his quarters and rest after the trip, and I know you'd like to prepare yourself for the banquet, Gwynn. It's going to be a very formal event, as you know."

The Princess caught the message… and so did Arthur.  
The meeting had been adjourned.

* * *

And then... there was a banquet ;-)


	23. Chapter 23: Camelot's colors

SAME DISCLAIMER AS IN CHAPTER 1

Thank you again for all the wonderful reviews!  
I don't know what else to say to express my gratitude... Keep them coming, please?

Now let's go to the ball... ;-)

* * *

_**Chapter 23: Camelot's Colors**_

"It's a beautiful dress, Gwynn."

"I'm still not wearing it."

"But your uncle brought it for you…"

"I never wear red…"

Helene sighed.  
"I know… but he said it's the color of the Pendragon's royal house, so you should."

The usually unruffled Princess exploded in outrage.  
"This is _not_ a dress, Helene. This is a _wrapping cloth_ of a gift !"

The lady in waiting remained silent for a moment, giving time to her mistress to calm down. The Princess was absolutely right, but there was nothing that could be done. She tried another approach.

"My lady." She started softly. "You still do not know why Prince Arthur is here… And you said yourself that he said that nothing had been decided yet." She paused for a moment. "I do not know what that could mean but perhaps, by wearing his colors, you might please him and…"

"I do not want to please the Prince, Helene" Gwynn spoke coldly, her composure regained. "I need to _displease_ him."

Helene understood; then again, that boat had sailed long ago.  
"I am afraid it is too late for that, my lady."

* * *

The large hall was full of people, lavishly decorated and obviously ready for a major royal event. The sophistication of the kingdom—undoubtedly fueled by its commercial dealings with foreign nations of different backgrounds—was evident in the variety of food, drinks and entertainment around the majestic ballroom.

Arthur and Sir Leon were placidly conversing precisely about that with the royal commander. Sir Alric was several years older than the Camelot Knights and a highly educated and affable gentle man. His love for Leoness and particularly the Princess had been made apparent in more than one occasion during their conversation.

Still in his mission of finding out the alter motives of the Steward, the Prince was about to ask a tangential question when Sir Leon's eyes got stuck on the main entrance and the expression in his face made Arthur turn around, momentarily forgetting his inquiry.

He followed Leon's gaze… and forgot how to breathe.  
Sir Alric, meanwhile, only smiled knowingly.

Gwynn was standing in the door… A vision of beauty and poise.

The crimson red of her dress highlighted the auburn tones of her perfectly done hair. The contrast of the rich dark fabric with her pale porcelain-like skin looked almost unearthly…

Arthur forced his lungs to intake air.  
She was vision indeed.  
A vision wearing his colors… _Camelot's_ colors.  
Oblivious of his actions, he slowly began walking towards her.

The hall went silent for a moment until the usher announced her arrival, followed by the Steward's proclamation that the visiting Prince would be the Princess' escort for the night.

Arthur barely heard them. The entire room had vanished around him except for the bewitching beauty in sinful red, whose forestry eyes were stubbornly trained on an imaginary point of the opposite wall and would not yield to his silent call.

Only when her uncle greeted the Prince, she deigned to move her gaze towards him. And part of her wished she hadn't… Swallowing instinctively, Gwynn could not stop her blinking either.

_Why he had to be so handsome…_

The rigorous dark attire of the Camelot Prince only helped to highlight his regal air. He needn't to wear a crown… He was a royal through and through; from his stance to his effortless charm… he irradiated power and charisma.

Faced with such reality, Gwynn wondered how could she have been so blind in Eleara and convinced herself that this man was a simple knight… It seemed such an absurd idea now that she should probably question her common sense.

The expression of her eyes, nonetheless, told Arthur that she approved of what she saw and little smile curved a side of his mouth. Good… Because he couldn't be more enchanted.

He kissed her cold, trembling hand and whispered only to her.  
"I thought I have strayed into a dream…"

The deep sound of his voice and his words brought a gorgeous pinkish blush to her very pale cheeks. She smiled timidly, still under the effects of his appearance, and tried to regain her wits.

With a more than suave demeanor, Arthur wrapped her hand in his arm and guided her slowly towards the main table, nodding and smiling to the attendance as they made their way across the hall. The attention of the entire room was hinging on the young couple, and everyone in the crowd seemed to smile in approval, excluding perhaps the Steward.

Even if everything seemed to be going according to plan, two unforeseen events were worrying Ruther. First and foremost, the presence of the Prince in Leoness had never been part of his scheme. Second, there was obviously more to this young royal than met the eye, though he could not yet determine what.

His choice of suitor had been made based on Uther's reputation and his hope that the fruit would not have fallen too far from the tree. However, in this case, it would appear so. Then again, he reasoned, the young warrior _was_ a Pendragon after all; maybe he just needed to be reminded of such.

* * *

Dinner proceeded smoothly, and the Prince was enjoying the assortment of delicious exotic items brought to them one after another. Everything was perfect, except for the fact that his companion seemed to have gone completely mute and was honoring the exquisite wine quite enthusiastically. Arthur smiled. She was clearly trying to still her nerves, and so he tried to open the conversation.

"Camelot's colors suit you very well, my lady. I am much honored that you have decided to wear them."

Gwynn glanced at him with icy eyes. "Then you should thank my uncle, Sire, for it was he who _ordered_ me to wear them."

The Prince lifted an eyebrow. Was that so?

"Do not look so surprised, my lord. I am sure his intentions were highly honorable." The dripping sarcasm picked Arthur's curiosity.

"How so?"

She turned her gaze back to the hall.  
"He probably just wanted the _wrap_ of his present to entertain your eyes, in case the present _itself_ does not."

The Prince let out a frankly amused laugh; her wits surprised him once again, though by now he should have known better.  
"Well then, having known the… _present_ before hand, I must confess that it would have enchanted me _even_ if wrapped in rags."

Gwynn noticed the smooth cadence in his voice and tensed in an effort not to look at him again. She knew that a charming smile and mischievous eyes would be waiting for her. And she hated him... or rather… _her_, for being so incapable of resisting his allure.

When she didn't move, Arthur sighed and sat back on his chair.  
All right. She was furious and—though he would have liked it otherwise—the Prince had to admit that rightly so. She was obviously feeling trapped. Should he appease her concerns?

Looking thoughtfully at her perfect profile he considered his options for a moment.  
On second thought, she still owed him an explanation and—though her eyes had told a different story—she had insisted in this distant and cold charade.

She was so adorable when flustered… Maybe he should enjoy the bantering a bit longer and join the 'uptight royal' game she seemed to be playing. It was worth the try…

He grabbed her hand.  
"Smile for the crowd _my future wife_." He stressed mordantly.

This time she did turn to him, eyebrows arched in outrage, just to find that now he had his most fake smile plastered on his face while his eyes were shining impishly.

Very well, if that was what he wanted… She put on a blinding smile and angled her head coquettishly; all the while her eyes kept burning with cold green fury.

"You are a hypocrite."

From the distance, however, anyone watching would have been convinced that this was a flirtatious interchange between the young royals.

His grab on her hand became harder but his cold smile didn't falter.  
"Thread lightly milady." He warned while sensually rubbing his thumb over her knuckles, noticing with pleasure the spread of a lovely flush on her neck and cheeks. She might pretend all she wanted, but she was definitely not immune to his touch.

The Princess was smart enough to know when she was in dangerous territory, and being near the Camelot Prince was exactly that. She couldn't keep her wits about her whenever he touched her and thus, it was going to be better to maintain the pretenses and say nothing.

"I need to talk to you in private." It was the Prince's next request, which actually sounded more like a command to her.

"We do not have anything else to speak of, my lord." She tried to rescue her hand, but his grip tightened even further.

"Oh, but we do. You owe me an explanation." He nodded to a passing couple, still smiling.

"I did tell you…" She began only to be interrupted by the Prince's eyes, which were now cautioning and not longer laughing.

"A truthful one" He said with a deadly calm, and before she could protest: "And if you don't, I might tell your uncle what you did."

Her beautiful mouth opened in indignation.  
"You wouldn't dare!" She whispered in anger.

Arthur took her hand to his lips this time. A silky, menacing smile adorned his handsome face and his eyes sent a loud and clear warning. "Don't try me then."

Only the Gods knew what could have happened at that moment if it hadn't been for the Steward, who interrupted the interchange just in time.

"Prince Arthur, as our honored guest, you should open the dance floor."

Arthur turned around vividly. He had not expected the suggestion.

Not only he was _not_ fond of dancing, but he actually thought of it as a useless waste of time. As far as he was concerned, he seldom needed to court ladies in a dancing floor to woo them, so… why bother.

In this case, however, he knew he would have to acquiesce. He stood up.

Amidst his momentary discomfiture, he saw a glint of mockery in the Princess' eyes while helping her off her seat. She was obviously laughing at his predicament.

He recalled telling Finnabair—back in Eleara—how much he dreaded dancing and how he would try and weasel out of it any chance he'd got. Apparently, she remembered the fact and was finding his awkwardness very amusing.

Already in the dancing floor, he scowled at her as the balade was starting.

"You should know better than to mock my plight, Princess." He warned in one of the crossings.

"I thought you did not dance." Her pretended innocence only fueled his aggravation.

"I usually do not."

"Then why do it now?" She crossed in front on him. "It would have saved us both the discomfort…"

Now he was getting angry, and if her scorning weren't enough, her jasmine perfume was also taunting him. He wished they were alone and then they'd see who would laugh…

"I am a guest, I have been asked, I cannot refuse."

He paused until the next crossing, which fortunately positioned Gwynn's back right in front of him. "Besides… I would do anything to be near you."

The words were whispered against her ear and she blushed from head to toe. Her irrepressible flushes when he was concerned would not do with the entire court watching. It was time to retreat, and by now she knew how to do so. She battled her long lashes in a halfway pout.

"Please…"

But the Prince was quite incensed… A mixture of anger and an overwhelming need of kissing her were cursing through his body. Not to mention he knew what she was doing.

"My dear Princess… Do you honestly want me to believe that everything was a lie?"

Gwynn was already trembling, utterly disturbed, but would not, _could_ not yield. Not now.  
"It was, I told you…"

The song was coming to an end and they were now facing each other, very close. His low voice was unusually husky, even to his own ears.

"You can't lie to me Gwynn. You know it as well as I do…No one can fake what you showed me you felt…" The words _'when I kissed you'_ did not even need to be said.

Oh… How she hated her stupid heart, ready to jump off her chest at the memory of what he was bluntly evoking…  
And how dared he, throwing her weakness on her face… The song had finished and this presumptuous Prince hadn't released her hand.

"Unhand me." It was a royal command, which unfortunately only caused for Arthur to tighten his grip and move closer; his gaze purposeful and darkened with desire.

Her eyes widened when she realized he was about to kiss her right there.  
"Unhand me… Please, Sire."

The desperate plead brought Arthur back to reality and he discreetly shook his head to clear his mind. He had almost…

Releasing her hand, he grabbed her elbow very gently and moved back to the table.  
His mind was fixated in only one thought: he needed to get her out of the banquet; and soon.

* * *

And the night has just begun... ;-)


	24. Chapter 24: Privacy

SAME DISCLAIMER AS IN CHAPTER 1

Wow! Such nice reviews! That's great!  
Thank you all very much! :-) :-)  
I hope you enjoy this chapter as well...

The night was still young when we left it in the previous chapter, so let's see what happened afterwards ;-)

_

* * *

_

_**Chapter 24: Privacy**_

After the dance interlude, an awkward silence settled between the Prince and the Princess and Ruther was fuming… The initial enthrallment of the Camelot heir had morphed into an uptight detachment, and the Steward was sure his niece had already managed to alienate the Prince with some of her witty retorts.

As things were, his hands were tied tonight… Or maybe not.  
He saw Sir Alric, who was sitting with his wife, looking pensively at the young couple of royals. It was clear that the commander had also perceived the sudden frostiness between Arthur and Gwynn and was wondering about it.

Although Ruther did not care much for Alric due to the sickening loyalty of the commander to his niece's late family, he would do an exception for now. Inconspicuously, he signaled the Knight with his head and they spoke briefly in private. Sir Alric nodded and moved towards the Prince.

"Your highness, would you mind if I dance with the Princess?"

Arthur smiled. He was relieved of a change—_any _change—that would end this uncomfortable status quo. And besides, he liked the older commander very much.  
"By all means, Sir Alric."

The Knight smiled and moved towards Gwynn.  
"Princess?"

The Princess was more than happy to leave the table, her uncle, and—perhaps most importantly—her obnoxious companion behind, who after perturbing her to no end on the dance floor had chosen to isolate himself without even apologizing. Sir Alric had been like a father to her ever since her family died and she loved dancing. It was a quite welcome respite from so much discomfort.

Although having the young royals separated was not what the Steward had in mind for the night, at least in this way they were not causing a scene in front of the court _and_ he could use the opportunity to probe the Prince.

"So, your highness. I hope everything is to your liking so far?"

The Prince mentally chuckled at the loaded question. Ruther was obviously referring to his niece, and the fact that he was speaking of his own flesh and blood like a mere commodity truly disgusted him. Nonetheless, he reminded himself of the diplomatic aspect of the mission. Alienating the Steward would not help him to find out his true intentions.

He finally turned a significant smile to the old man. "Indeed, Sir. Very much."

The regent seemed pleased with the answer and smirked crookedly.  
"Am I to assume then that your answer earlier today was simply a retort to an uncalled-for pun from my niece? Gwynn can be … impulsive at times."

_I am very much aware of that_, the Prince scoffed internally.  
In no rush to answer, though, Arthur shifted the topic.

"Can she really?"

"Oh… yes. She took it after her mother. Splendid spirited woman my poor cousin's wife… Fortunately, what Gwynn lacks in… obedience she more than makes up in beauty and character, as I'm sure you've noticed…"

Arthur was livid. Ruther was unashamedly _selling_ his niece and the Prince found out that he truly detested this man. His face, however, disclosed nothing.

"She surely does…" And getting back to business, he shifted subjects again. "Regarding your initial question, Sir… I am not sure what you mean …"

"Well, you said '_not decided yet'_ but I thought that your presence here meant that your father had accepted the proposal."

Arthur had known all along where the steward was coming from; he just had wanted for him to say it out loud. It would be probably better to set some things straight with this disgusting and clearly devious man.

"My father and_ I_" He stressed making sure his interlocutor understood his involvement. "Have given your proposal much thought, and _we_ definitely see its potential."

He drank slowly from his wine. "Nevertheless, as you can imagine, it is a big decision particularly for me; one that I had no desire to make blindly... Or in a hurry." He put his cup down and looked at the Steward straight on the eye. "Hence my presence here."

Ruther arched his eyebrows almost imperceptibly. This youngster was probably more clued-up than he had first thought. He tried to smooth the wrinkle, but diplomacy was by no means the Steward's forte.

"Well… Of course. I just asked because in my times, if a marriage treaty was best for the kingdom, it was best for the regents as well… Personal preferences on the issue were inconsequential."

The sarcasm was not subtle enough to go unnoticed by the Prince.  
"Well, Sir." He smiled a challenging grin. "Times change."

"It would seem so indeed…"

The idea of using the occasion to ask Ruther _why_ he'd chosen Camelot had crossed the Prince's mind, but he decided that there had been already enough chatting with the Steward for one night. Not to mention that his _potential intended_ was clearly having too much fun without him, and he figured he was entitled to some enjoyment too.

It was not only evident that the Princess was really fond of dancing, but she also excelled at it. Arthur _honestly_ did not care much for such activity; then again, seeing her smiling and laughing with someone else had become increasingly intolerable as time passed by.

The vivid music seemingly suited her even better, and she looked overjoyed by the rapid steps and the merriment. Her new partner was a younger man who appeared to be far more smitten with the Princess than Arthur would have liked. He should probably do something.

"With your permission, Sir Ruther. I think my companion has been without my company long enough."

In spite of the somehow unsuccessful conversation, Ruther saw the expression in the Prince's eyes and smirked satisfied. Whether he'd admit it yet or not, the young Pendragon liked the offer. Of that, he was sure.  
"Of course."

The Prince crossed the dance floor paying no heed to the curious looks of some dancers. His eyes were fixed on the target: Gwynn and her suddenly… detestable partner, who—by the way—was handling another cup to the Princess and speaking too close to her ear; at least by his recently set standards. The worst part was that she was laughing merrily, clearly flattered.

Arthur wondered about the strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, which he'd never felt before. And also his sudden urge to punch the odious dancer in the face and carry Gwynn off the room. The word '_jealous_', naturally, never crossed his mind.

"I believe I've been deprived of the Princess' company long enough by now. I am, after all, her escort for the night."

The young man looked surprised, a little annoyed first, but taking on the imposing presence of the Camelot Prince, it didn't even occur to him to argue the point. He bowed respectfully, and stepped back.

"Indeed your highness." And turning to the Princess, he kissed the hand she extended. "My deepest gratitude Princess. It had been an honor and a great pleasure to dance with you." And he left.

Gwynn was still exhilarated from the dance, and possibly a little too much wine. Though the delicious drink had helped marvelously to settle her nerves, she was noticing that it was also dulling her senses a bit. In any case, that too was a quite pleasant feeling.

Turning to Arthur with a suspicious scowl, she asked.  
"Did you just scare my partner away?"

The Prince beamed… She looked so stunning when incensed.  
"I did, didn't I?"

"And yet you show no remorse whatsoever" She scolded, bolder under the effect of the spirit.

Arthur shrugged his shoulders, a kid-like expression in his face.  
"Not really."

She narrowed her eyes.  
"You are insufferable."

And he moved closer.  
"And you are just too beautiful when angry."

"Is that why you choose to constantly bait me?"

"Not necessarily. I do it because you always rise to the occasion."

It was probably one of the truest exchanges they had had in a long time. And when such fact settled in, they both laughed… and relaxed. The silly argument had successfully removed the wedge previously driven between both.

Before another word could be spoken, a new lively dance caught Gwynn's attention and she sighed, momentarily distracted.

"No need to look so disenchanted, my lady. _I_ will dance with you…"

Taken aback by the declaration, the Princess' eyes widened and though it was not her intention, there was a hint of incredulousness in her voice.  
"Do you know how to dance the estampie?"

"You really need to have more faith in me, my lady."

Gwynn inhaled sharply. The Prince's tone and the intensity of his gaze made her suspect that he was not longer speaking of the dance…

But Arthur did not elaborate his ambiguous statement. Instead, he simply grabbed her hand and joined the dancers in the vibrant music; his handsome face lightened by the roguish smile that she so loved...  
"I am a fast learner." He winked.

And after a couple of steps, Gwynn was absolutely convinced that the cocky affirmation had been right on target. On one hand, she knew that as a warrior, he had obviously a perfect balance and sense of rhythm. But from there to actually being able to follow the vigorous steps of the estampie … well, it was a surprise. And a very welcome one at that.

She forgot about everything else and kept dancing, laughing and smiling and Arthur felt… absolutely mesmerized. All of the sudden, he was back at the small stream behind the state in Eleara, where they had played and splashed the first day they met without a care in the world … Just like then, Gwynn's smiles were _only_ for him, and as much as he dreaded dancing, her laugh alone was well worth the effort.

The dance finally ended and they stood very close and breathing hard, candidly smiling to each other. The open expression of their eyes brought them back only a few weeks ago, when they were simply a lady and a knight and there were no politics around…

On its own accord, Arthur's gaze moved to her mouth. If he didn't get her out of there, he would kiss her right in the middle of the dancing floor. He was sure of that.

"Walk with me." He pleaded, gently grabbing her arm.

Gwynn had no idea where, but at that moment, she would have followed him to the end of the world. Whether it was the dance, the wine, or plainly the magnetic power of his presence, she could not tell… Not that she cared either.

Arthur navigated them throughout the maze of people towards one of the large balconies that opened to the sea. The last full moon of the solstice was shining magnificently in the starry sky and its cold white light reflected in the ocean had painted the entire landscape with serene silver tones. Across the bay, the lights of the harbor and the fishing ships blinked like fireflies in the forest, adding another layer of magic to the fantastic view…

Gwynn freed her arm and walked a couple of steps ahead of him, welcoming the refreshing effect of the night air. She inhaled dreamingly and opened her arms to the scenery.

"Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?"

Arthur had not even glanced at the outlook. His eyes, which had been unbendingly trained on her, remained _only_ on her when he answered in a low voice.  
"No. Never."

And without further ado, he gently made her turn around to face him. She was still smiling when he kissed her—finally—again.

The kiss was different from the others. It was no urgent or furious, but slow and arousing. Arthur took his time and kissed her long and passionately. Tasting every sigh, every moan. She wrapped her arms on his neck and her delicious sigh of contentment was almost his undoing.

At some point, when the need for air became excruciating, Arthur move only slightly away from her face but wouldn't have let go of her body even if the entire Leoness army were there to force him to do so.

He grinned impishly over her mouth.  
"I'm afraid I've never requested your proper permission to kiss you Princess."

She smiled, her eyes hooded, almost closed. The delicious heat from his body was an extremely pleasant contrast with the cool marine breeze. Snuggled in those strong arms and against his massive chest was probably the only place she'd felt safe since her family was alive.

"Had I known how wonderful your kisses were, my lord, I would have granted you permission the very first day we met."

Something akin a low growl came from the bottom of his chest at the boldness of her answer and he kissed her more fervently, marveling in how perfect she felt in his arms.

Gwynn was partially conscious that the wine had possibly loosened her tongue. However, if her bravado had served for this wonderful man to kiss her again, then so be it.

Even in his engrossed state, the warrior instincts of Arthur were always alert. Something was amiss.  
He delicately broke the kiss and embraced her closer, hiding her face on his chest. In total daze, the movement only hinted Gwynn to nestle against his body. She loved his smell… It was a clean, forestry aroma that reminded her of the pines in spring.

Lowering his head, The Prince murmured softly: "We are not alone anymore."

And because he just couldn't help it, he kissed the adorable ear, softly biting her lobe. She shivered and instinctively arched her body against his, which was now beginning to hum with desire. A surge of male pride at her reaction made Arthur groan almost agonizingly. This woman would be the death of him…

But once his words slowly sifted through her intoxicated brain, she froze. She meant to move away, but his arms felt like bands of steel. Nonetheless, she whispered back.

"It must be one of my uncle's personal army men. They watch me permanently."

Arthur frowned. Why would the Steward have the need for a 'personal' army? Perhaps she was simply referring to the royal guard?

Dismissing the irrelevant topic, he moved to look at her with a very wicked expression in his cerulean gaze.  
"Then I say let's let them watch" and tried to kiss her again, only to be halted by her eyes. They were bright and scared; and her previous enthrallment was almost completely gone.

Having personally met the conniving Steward, coupled with the awareness that there was someone observing them, made Arthur conclude that she might also have very good reasons to fear her uncle. The thought made his blood heat in anger… and he promised himself that nothing would happen to her on his watch.

"You are safe with me Gwynn. You must know that."

His words were meant to calm her, but apparently they only achieved disturbing her more.  
"Here. For now." Was her cryptic answer.

Arthur arched an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"It does not matter now…" She sighed, freeing herself from his arms and this time he didn't stop her, though he was glad she remained close to him.

When she continued speaking, he understood that it was not his presence that kept her near, but rather the need of not being heard by the hidden bystander.

"I was hoping you would have refused the proposal, Sire." There was a hint of sadness in her voice.

The Prince stiffened.  
How could she say that after what they have shared?  
He had thought that after the passionate interlude, things were pretty much said and done. Apparently, once again he had miscalculated her reaction… and her innate ability to throw him off balance.

Arthur sighed trying to understand the situation to no avail. In any case, he had the upper hand now, and—most importantly—she had nowhere to run. Maybe he should put her mind at ease and see where it'd lead.

"I have not accepted anything yet."

Her eyes vividly went back to his, looking for hints to whether he was lying or not. They were now transparent blue and honest. He was telling the truth… and he was confused. The cognizance that—though unwillingly—she was playing with his feelings crushed her heart like an invisible hand and brought her to the verge of tears; but she reeled them in.

"You haven't?"

There was so much hope in her tone that Arthur felt a blow to his stomach. She had kissed him passionately a moment ago and now was relieved because he hadn't accepted her hand on marriage. What the hell was going on?

Astonished at his own composure, considering the circumstances, Arthur moved closer and snaked his arm around her brief waist, bringing her against his body once more.

"Gwynn, I have come here with the sole intention to see you and to straighten things between us." His other hand caressed her cheek and the feeling of her flawless, silky skin against his rough warrior fingers felt almost unreal. "I have convinced my father to let me deal with this arrangement personally and I can cancel it without reservations if needed be."

She sighed shakily, between relieved and aroused under his touch; he continued:  
"If marrying me would be such a painful torture for you…"

Her eyes completely flooded with tears. Swallowing the lump on her throat, she impulsively brought her finger to his lips in an attempt to stop his words.  
"It's not that my lord…"

Arthur froze at her gesture and his only reaction was to grab the small hand and kiss every digit sensuously, revealing on the fascinated expression of her misty eyes. She had no idea how close to the edge he was… Still, he needed to reassure her so she'd finally open up to him.

"I gave you my word Princess, and I stand by it… Please tell me what is really going on and I _will_ cancel the arrangement…" He inhaled and then continued with a statement he had never even planned to give. "…Even against my own wishes and desires…"

That did it for her and the dam broke. As much as she would have wished for things between them to stay as they were left in Eleara, for better or worse her formidable Prince was there… for her.  
To do her bidding…

She just needed to be honest and tell him the secret she knew would definitely drive him away… and possibly despise her too.  
And she would. She could not deceive him any longer.

A single tear rolled down her cheek and Arthur couldn't stand her sorrow anymore.  
"Talk to me Gwynn… Please…"

She nodded and the Prince breathed in relief. They were _finally_ getting somewhere.  
Or were they …

"But we can't speak here my lord…" She whispered in a broken voice. "The walls have ears…"

He understood, fully aware that whoever was hiding in the shadows was still there.  
"Is there any place where these guards would not follow you?"

"Only in my quarters… " The answer came out before she realized the implications of it. When she did, her face reddened furiously.

Trying hard to hide the chain of wicked thoughts that her words and his heightened state of… enthusiasm had brought forth, Arthur only nodded, doing the best he could not to scare her or embarrass her further.

Nevertheless, he figured that some of his feelings might have been exposed, because the Princess blushed even more and felt prompted to request.

"Could you please be as inconspicuous as possible, my lord?"

It was very clear what she meant and the Prince nodded again with an impish smile that he truly could not repress. Grabbing her chin in his fingers, he whispered over her mouth.

"You have enchanted me my lady… Anything you ask of me, you shall have."

As much as Arthur would have wanted to continue the interlude, he wanted even _more_ to speak with her, so he kissed her softly and continued, "Go on now… I will follow shortly. I… need some air…"

Still in daze, she nodded and went back into the hall while Arthur pretended to look at the scenery for another minute or so before walking inside.

* * *

The guard that had been following the scene between the royals waited a moment longer after the balcony had been emptied. Once he was sure that the meeting had ended and none of the partakers would be back, he prepared to leave his post when a cold blade found his neck.

"I do not appreciate being spied on." Arthur's tone was even colder than the steel of his dagger on the man's throat.

The guard swallowed, trying to figure out from where the Prince had come out. "I am sorry, your highness. I am just following orders."

The Prince knew that much and although he had a pretty good idea whose orders the soldier was following, he did not dare to ask. At this point, any answer would have caused a major breach in the incipient relationship with the host kingdom and there were still too many things he needed to learn. Therefore, he just went for a plain threat.

"Tell your commander that if he values his life and yours, he would do well to remember that in Camelot we value royal privacy very much."

He lowered his blade and the guard breathed in relief. But the Prince was not done.

"And tell him that I only warn once."


	25. Chapter 25: Owning the fire

SAME DISCLAIMER AS IN CHAPTER 1

I'm back. Life got in the way of fun…

Thanks SO very much for the wonderful reviews!  
They really keep me going (in spite of life getting in the way ;-))

This was a very tricky chapter to write and I hope it lives up to your expectations…  
It is also the longest one yet, and I apologize for that.

Thanks for reading!

_**

* * *

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_**Chapter 25: Owning the fire**_

Helene was totally at a loss of what was going on. During the banquet the mood of her mistress had shifted so many times that she had been unable to keep proper track. And according to some not-so-veiled comments from Merlin—who had been next to her the entire time—the Prince's disposition had been far from steady as well.

After walking in from the balcony where both royals had secluded themselves, Gwynn had announced a headache and retired promptly. Since her mistress had kept her mouth shut, Helene had not wanted to ask. Nonetheless, something was strange.

While removing the pins and pearls from the Princess hair, the sharp lady in waiting realized that the headache was clearly only an excuse. Although quite somber, Gwynn seemed as healthy as always.

Immerse in all sorts of hypotheses that would explain this peculiar behavior, Helene jumped slightly at a soft knock on the door. Who could be at this hour?

Gwynn, however, didn't even seem surprised.  
"It must be Prince Arthur. Please, Helene, let him in."

To say that the lady in waiting was shocked was the understatement of the century. Her mistress was expecting the Camelot Prince in her quarters and it was acting like she thought nothing of it?

Not only that, but from the earlier '_I need to displease him'_ to the recent '_please let him in'_ there was a chasm that, if asked, Helene would have deemed _quite large_ as a matter of fact. Should she be worried about Gwynn's sanity?

In spite of the dear friendship that united both ladies, Helene never forgot her place. She was Gwynn's friend, confidant and comfort… but the Princess was a grown up woman and knew was she was doing…

At least that was what the petite blonde was hoping when she opened the door.  
"Good evening, your highness."  
"Good evening, Helene."

Arthur noticed the hesitation in the servant lady and understanding the situation, he tried to appease her uneasiness.

"Do not worry, my lady. The Princess is perfectly safe with me." He tried his best comforting smile. "You have my word."

Helene blushed in embarrassment when she realized that her eyes had betrayed her and she had said too much without even speaking a word. It was definitely not her place to question a royal's behavior, yet once again the Prince had showed sympathy for her plight. Indeed a rare occurrence and—just like in Eleara—she had the keen intuition that the Camelot Prince was much more than he appeared to be.

Smiling in gratitude, she curtsied.  
"The Princess will be with you momentarily my lord."

* * *

Thinking that the wine was undoubtedly to blame… or to thank depending on how one looked at it, Gwynn felt strangely at ease—considering what she was about to disclose—while walking into the antechamber of her quarters. In any case, she'd been convincing herself that the truth would set her free… Hopefully.

The Prince was carefully observing a painting on the wall. His crown and royal robe were gone and he looked more like the Knight she knew. She liked that.

"Hello again."

Arthur turned on his heels tearing his gaze from the portrait of a boy and a gorgeous red-haired little girl that had captivated him as soon as he had stepped into the room. The Princess was still dressed on that velvety… maddening red dress, which made his hands burn with the need to touch it… or rather: _her _again.

To his fascination and dismay, she had her hair down, which now flowed freely past her hips, highlighted with golden strikes under the orange glow of the hearth. Breathing in her beauty, the Prince feared his concentration might have been compromised by her looks.

Had she been planning on distracting him from the upcoming conversation?  
He smiled inwardly.  
Although she had been quite forthcoming about this meeting, he should probably _not_ put it past her completely.

"My lady…"

The smile on his lips slowly disappeared when his brain began to process the situation. The calmed atmosphere reminded him of a raining morning in a library when they had become friends—false pretenses aside—and had freely expressed what was truly in their hearts.

The last time they had faced each other like this, however, it had been in _his_ quarters and a royal battle of wills had ensued; battle that unfortunately had ended with injuries in both sides and no real winner.

He was curious about what new surprise tonight would bring. Her relaxed demeanor was to some extent unexpected and Arthur had to wonder—just like he'd done many times before—if he would_ ever_ be able to accurately guess Gwynn's actions. He had to swallow a chuckle: _most likely not_.

He shook his head to clean his thoughts and signaled the painting on the wall with an impish smile.  
"Why were you so mad in this portrait?"

Gwynn lifted her eyes, curious, and let out a chuckle. "How do you know I was mad?"

"Maybe because your eyes are blazing in the same way you look at me when you are angry...?" He grinned playfully.

She laughed lowly. "The artist kept asking me to stay still and I hated it… Aylwin took me riding every day we had a sitting for the portrait to appease my annoyance… It was my brother's way to keep me out of trouble with our parents." She sighed with a hint of sadness. "I was five…"

Arthur kept looking intently at the picture. The small anecdote brought back his own memories of Morgana and all the tomfooleries they had done as children; the arguments and the pranks, and yet how they always had protected each other from Uther's disciplinary actions… His face saddened. Where would she be now?

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't hear Gwynn moving closer to him until the familiar perfume of jasmine inundated his senses and brought him back.

"You look pensive, your highness…" She observed.

He probably had no intention to disclose his deeply personal thoughts, but the familiarity of the moment somehow overwhelmed him… For different reasons, they had both lost a dear sibling.

"I was… This picture reminded me of my youth with Morgana..." He smiled a sad smile. "She was the closest to a sister I'd ever had… And I was wondering where she would be now."

The Princess was surprised. "She is not in Camelot?"

Arthur turned towards the picture once again to hide the hurt in his eyes. "No… She left." He inhaled forcefully and his voice became colder. "A sorceress turned her heart against my father and Camelot… _Magic_ turned her against her family."

Out of everything he could have said, nothing would have shaken Gwynn more than that statement. She swallowed a nervous gasp but couldn't stop her words in time and mumbled to herself:

"You really are not making this easy."

"I beg your pardon?" His surprised confusion was evident.

Blushing furiously, she quickly searched for some way to take her foot out of her mouth. "I meant… It was probably not easy for you…"

The Prince frowned. That didn't sound at all like what she just said…  
In any case, the interruption was welcomed as it brought him back from his dark thoughts. Now they could hopefully talk as planned.

They sat in front of each other and Arthur reckoned that if he didn't start, she wouldn't.  
"Thank you for granting me this audience, Princess."

"No need to be so formal, Sire. I know I owe you an explanation… It would have been easier, though, if you would simply have taken my word for it."

The hint of reproach in her voice forced Arthur to think for a second before answering.  
"That is a fair statement… Perhaps if I hadn't gotten to know you as I did in Eleara, my lady, I probably would have… However, after sharing what we've shared…" He kept his tone as neutral as possible… "I guess I need to understand why the idea of marrying me is such a burden for you…"

Gwynn blushed and looked away.  
"It is not you, Sire. By now I think you know that…"

Encouraged by her response and caught in an unexpected honest spree, the Prince continued.  
"I would like to believe that, my lady. But in spite of some of the words I've said under a fist of anger… I am honestly not sure…" He thought for a minute. "Is it because Ascetir?"

Her reply was quick, but her gaze was kept concealed.  
"No, my lord. Though Ascetir is a painful memory for me, and I stand by what I said in my letter, that was also another excuse…"

Obstinately watching her hands, she continued. "I've been… giving you all sort of excuses because first I've been afraid… and then… ashamed of telling you the truth, my lord."

"Gwynn… I would never…"

Still not looking at him, she interrupted before her courage disappeared.  
"I know that when you learn my secret you would most likely despise me, my lord. And I just did not want to face that."

The Prince was appalled.  
"Despise you Gwynn? That's impossible!" He leaned towards her grabbing her cold hands. "Do you have any idea what you have done to me Princess?" He searched for the words. "You… You have made me feel like there is hope again… And I …"

She looked up swiftly, her eyes full of tears. "Please Arthur… Do not say words that you will have to take back later."

_Arthur_ got lost in her eyes and swallowed hard.  
She had said his name for the first time ever since they'd met and he couldn't believe how marvelous it sounded in her lips. And in that moment he reckoned that nothing she could say would matter as long as she continued calling him by his given name …

His amazed smile lighted up his face. "You've said my name…" was all he mustered.

Reddening profusely under the intensity of his eyes, the Princess tried to rescue her hands. But he wouldn't have any of that and kept them firmly encased in his large, warm ones.

His happiness, however, was short lived.

"The truth is, _my lord_." She stressed the formal treatment putting distance again between them. "That despite the attraction that might exist between us, I cannot be your queen…"

It was a blow in his guts. He had heard those words before—though from different lips—more times than he cared to count.

They still hurt like hell. His past pain came crushing down on him and it mixed up with his increasing emotional frustration at her sudden reluctance.

This time he wouldn't take the statement at face value. This time he would demand an explanation. His shoulders stiffened and he sat back, his gaze growing a steely dark blue.

"Care to explain?" Though he probably didn't intend it that way, his question sounded like a royal order that admitted no discussion.

Gwynn sighed in defeat. After all her failed, silly efforts, it had come to this anyway...  
She should finish it.

"All right." She conceded softly and sat straight too, effectively freeing her hands this time.

"This is why I cannot marry you, Prince Arthur Pendragon …" Her tone grew colder towards the end of the sentence, and the Prince felt freezing when she pronounced his house's name.

Without further ado, she flicked her wrist and the remaining unlit candles in the room were lighted at once.

* * *

Arthur felt trapped in an alternate universe.  
What has just happened there?

He looked around at the newly lit candles slowly, taking in the revelation. After several minutes that felt like hours to Gwynn, the prince turned icy eyes to her.

"You… " He chocked. "You are a … sorceress…" There was a spiteful disdain in his voice and the princess cowered back in her seat.

"No. I am not." She defended weakly.

Arthur saw he was frightening her and tried to control his anger.  
This could NOT be happening to him.

"You, my lady" He punctuated with barely contained fury, "have just lit up all the candles in the room with a twist of your hand. And yet you deny being a sorceress…"

His smile was cold and his silken tone was dangerous to say the least.  
"What, pray tell, are you taking me for?"

In the midst of her fear, Gwynn managed to get upset.  
He had wanted the truth, hadn't he? And now he was calling her a liar? The nerve!

"Right now Sire?" She arched an eyebrow, her voice drenched with sarcasm. "Simply for an ignorant fool!"

Her words and derisive tone felt like a strike on his face and his cheeks burned at the insult. He leaned closer with killer eyes and she backed away in her seat. Good, because he was not sure what he was capable of doing at that moment.

"Thread carefully, milady." He warned. "And please explain to this… _ignorant fool_" he stressed and she winced at her choice of words. "How is it that you are NOT a sorceress even though all evidence points to it."

Unable to stand the coldness in his eyes, Gwynn looked away and after a moment spoke softly.

"I have never studied magic, or enchantments, or sorcery." She turned her gaze back to him; her face was so sad that his heart skipped a beat at the sight. "I was born this way."

The infinite sorrow in her beautiful green eyes was impossible to endure and now it was Arthur who had to look down. Rising from his chaise he walked to stand in front of the fireplace; his ire was slowly draining from his body only to be replaced by an awful helplessness… He wished he could understand but he truly did not.

Although her heart was literally breaking in pieces, something akin to peace filled Gwynn's chest. Her most guarded, shameful secret was finally out…

"You do not believe me" She stated in a whisper.

Arthur didn't look at her. He actually couldn't. After a long silence he spoke again.  
"How can I?"

Tears began seriously flooding her eyes. Oh…What would she give to _do_ _not_ go through this… Not with _him_.

"You think…" Her voice chocked a bit in the verge of her tears spilling, but she conquered them and continued speaking. "You think that magic is something that it's an _option_ for every one?"

There was so much incredulity in her tone that Arthur turned to her, more confused than ever.  
"Is it not?"

His question was so honest that if it hadn't been for her tears, Gwynn would have possibly broken up in a bitter laugh. He _truly_ had no idea…

"Goodness, your highness… How can you be so… badly informed?" She was glad to have found a more suitable way of depicting his ignorance on the subject. "You and your father pursue and condemn magic… and yet you know _nothing_ of it?"

Her next question, however, was downright accusatory.  
"What kind of justice system does Camelot have then?"

Arthur frowned in indignation and his pride made him respond without thinking.  
"We do what it's best for our people!"

"Says who?"

Though the promptness of her retort was challenging, the question in itself was far from cynical; the Prince knew that much and couldn't hold her eyes. He looked away again and did not answer. Nevertheless, Uther Pendragon's name clearly filled the ominous silence of the room.

"That is why I cannot marry you, Prince. Your father would have me killed without a trial."

Arthur turned back, horrified.  
"He wouldn't!"

But when he saw Gwynn's eyes full of pity at his naïveté, he knew that his answer had only been wishful thinking.

"Really, my lord?" She spoke softly. "Has your father never killed innocent people?"

It was another blow in his guts and his knuckles went white for the strength of his grip on the hearth's mantel. Images of the death of Gwen's father; and Gaius almost being burnt at the stake came rushing to his memory.

He felt sick to his stomach and Gwynn felt sorry for him.

"With all due respect, your highness" She went on with a low, tired voice. "Your father is paranoid when it comes to magic… You know it as well as I do."

When he didn't answer she knew he had somehow consented. Maybe she should tell him everything.  
"And that's why my uncle wants me to go to Camelot… To expose my… gift to your father so he would execute me."

"That… cannot be true…" It was not an accusation; rather a wholly aghast statement.

"But it is." She took a deep breath to gather courage for the next part."My uncle has always wanted the kingdom. I believe he is responsible for my family's death…"

Arthur swallowed hard. He would not have been able to say anything at that moment, not even to save his life.

As difficult as it was to try and speak holding back her tears, Gwynn pushed on. "Unfortunately for him, I survived. The law says that once I marry, my husband and I would inherit the throne. However, if I die _before_ marrying, Ruther would." She paused for a moment and inhaled shakingly.

"My uncle is a superstitious man. He took my survival as an omen and did not dare to attempt against my life again by himself for fear of being cursed. That's why he concocted this plan. Somehow he'd learned of my powers and wanted for Uther to discover them as well… And kill me."

The Prince couldn't believe what he was hearing. And yet everything made perfect sense.

"When I could not stop this for happening, the only thing it occurred to me was our previous encounter in Eleara. I thought that if I could convince you that our union was ill fated, you would break the deal for me and I would not have to visit Camelot." Pause. "I _cannot_ go to Camelot my lord…"

Her tears were finally running down her cheeks as an immense relief enveloped her. The whole truth was out and an enormous weight had been lifted from her heart.  
Whatever the outcome, Gwynn felt free at last…

Arthur, on the other hand, was in hell.  
He had kept a stern look towards the fire, trying to process the information.  
It was simply too much… and too wrong. And he realized that he believed every word.  
The fact that his father's obsession could be used against innocent people made him sick.

He also realized that he had been indeed… How had she called him? Oh, yes… an ignorant fool.

All his life he had been taught to believe in something, but it had never occurred to him to question it. And in doing so, he had been a silent accomplice of his father's actions.

He ran his hand through his hair.  
Heavens… If it hadn't been for Merlin and Gwen, even Gaius, after all his years of loyal service to Camelot, would have also been victim of his father's paranoia.

And now, this marvelous princess who had stolen his heart without even knowing it, was at his mercy. What was he to do?

Maybe his father's entire view of magic had indeed been wrong...  
Maybe learning about magic and knowing about it could bring more justice to Camelot and the people.

His emotions were running so wild that only by virtue of his long years of royal training he was able to regain some of his seriously shaken composure. He just needed to know…

"You've said you were born… this way…With these powers… When did you learn about them?"

"There was an extremely bad storm… I believe I was six…The ocean was raging and the wind blew furiously and I was very scared. I screamed calling my mother and the candles of my room lighted up." She smiled between tears at the memory. "My mother told me then that I had been granted special powers by my foremothers… That these powers came from my emotions and that when the time came she would teach me what they meant and how to control them…" She swallowed a sob with difficulty. "We've never got the chance…"

Acting on impulse, Arthur rushed to sit next to her on the chaise. He didn't dare to touch her, fearful of upsetting her further, but a devastating urgency to comfort her had taken hold of him.

Pulling strength from the memory of her mother, Gwynn continued her story wanting for nothing else than to get everything out.  
"And on the day my family died… We were ambushed and outnumbered. My mother pushed me through a hidden door in the bottom of the carriage and told me to run as fast as I could. She made me promise I would not turn around… I ran as I was told… but I couldn't help looking back. And I saw them fighting... Everyone was dying… Everyone…"

She sobbed loudly and tried to dry her tears with her sleeve, only to have them coming back twofold.  
"Then it happened. I screamed in horror and everything started catching fire… The carriage, the bandits… everything… I screamed and cried for I don't know how long… And finally, when there was none alive, the fire subsided and everything went black…"

Throwing caution to the wind, the Prince embraced her strongly against his chest. He could physically _feel_ her pain sifting through him and a primal need to ease such unimaginable hurt swept him over. His eyes went back to the portrait and his throat contracted in a knot. Such a wonderful, innocent child… amidst all that horror.

"Someone found me and I was brought back to the castle… I didn't speak for a long time, I was terrified not only of what I've seen, but also about what I've done. I never wanted to try and hone the powers after that." She looked at him with the deepest grief Arthur had ever seen. "I can now light candles on my will… but I do not know what else I am capable of… I… I don't _want_ to know."

The knot in Arthur's throat was asphyxiating as he cradled her sobbing body in his arms. His head was hurting badly with so much unexpected information, but that was nothing compared with the hurt of his heart…

He was not only out of words… He wasn't even sure what he was feeling anymore except an all-consuming need to protect her… to somehow make it better… He almost scoffed at the absurdity of the idea… _Nothing_ would ever make it better.

After a long while, Gwynn's sobs stopped and she sat back, facing him. She tried a shaky smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"I apologize, my lord, for my emotional display… I… haven't spoken of this in a very long time."

"Please, my lady… Your apology is absolutely unwarranted. I…" For all his royal eloquence, Arthur was having trouble finding the right words. "I cannot begin to fathom what you had been through…"

The Prince fell silent; words were inconsequential at the moment. His penetrating gaze, though, remained locked in hers… which was now a brighter green than ever and—amazingly—serene.

How could she do it?  
How could she be the person she was after being through that hell?

Astonished, and against all odds, he discovered that he was probably even more mesmerized by her than before… The memory of her lips came back igniting his longing; but all these developments had put their relation under another perspective.

It was as if a glass wall had been placed between them… He could still see her clearly and close… yet she was now unreachable.

He could yield to his desire, break the glass, kiss her with the desperation he had brewing inside and later deal with the implications of it… Or, he could leave now, go back to Camelot and spend the rest of his life trying to forget her.

If the former, he'd be committing treason against his King… If the latter, she would be left alone at Ruther's mercy, and the Gods only knew for how long his superstitions would stop him from trying to kill her again…

It was maddening to think in terms of such simplistic dichotomy…  
There _had _to be another way.  
He _had to_ find another way…

And maybe, just maybe, there was someone who could help him to do that.  
There was only one way to know.

Standing up, she spoke cheerlessly bringing him out of his contemplations.  
"Is this a good enough reason, my lord?"

Lost in his thoughts still, Arthur assented bitterly noticing that the Princess had decided to adjourn the meeting. Not that he could blame her. The entire confession had obviously taken its toll on her.

"You could say that my lady."

"I have only one last request, my lord… No one knows about this except Helene…" She paused and breathed in deeply. "Her father was a royal guard and also died that day… fighting for mine…"

"Your secret is safe with me my lady…" He reassured running his thumbs over her tear stained cheeks. "We are still friends, aren't we?"

A blinding smile was her mute response and Arthur had to wonder if perhaps breaking the glass and kissing her wouldn't be the right way to go about this… It'd be better to leave before her closeness entrapped him again and made him do something inopportune.

"I shall retire now, my lady." He kissed both her hands finding that departing was easier said than done. "But we shall continue our conversation some other time… if you'd accept."

Gwynn nodded, still cocooned in the wonderful feeling of freedom her admission had brought forth; her royal composure completely back.  
"It'd be a pleasure, my lord… And thank you."

He smiled gloomily from the door and left.


	26. Chapter 26: Family ties

SAME DISCLAIMER AS IN CHAPTER 1

Thanks very much again for the wonderful reviews! They make my day every time :-) :-)  
And I am very pleased you liked the previous chapter and the twist...  
But that was not the only one... ;-)

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy this installment too!

Oh... and HAPPY HALLOWEEN! :-)

* * *

_**Chapter 26: Family ties**_

The night seemed to have passed excruciatingly slow for Arthur and yet morning was already upon him. As expected, he hadn't been able to sleep. After the… surreal encounter with the Princess, it was like his entire world was upside down.

He had gone through all sorts of emotions afterwards. His pain… actually _her_ pain, had made it difficult to breathe at first. The image of that beautiful red-haired little girl watching in horror the slaughter of her family was still imprinted in his mind…

Later—and perhaps because of that foreign pain—he had become angry with the Princess for not having disclosed her powers earlier… For not having trusted him before… Blaming her for having such powers, and blaming her memory for not leaving him alone…

At the end, everything had faded out except for something akin to desperation… He was a pragmatic warrior and even though he had been in countless trying situation and had faced innumerable hard decisions before, he was sourly discovering that for the first time in his life he was utterly at a loss of what to do… Not to mention what to think, or, worst, what to _feel_…

The need to _do_ something—and sleeping was obviously out of the picture—had made him march purposely into the scribe's quarters, abruptly awaking the old scholar at those unsightly hours of the night and requesting to review the treaty right then. The old scholar had been only half awake during their meeting and after the third time the poor man had fallen asleep on his chair, Arthur had decided to take the papers back to his quarters.

The marriage treaty now rested on his desk, after having been read over and over again, hoping for the next time to bring more information than the previous.

Nothing. Well, except _that _clause. The clause stating that the Princess should reside in Camelot for a period not shorter than a year before the actual marriage could take place.

The scribe's explanation had been quite simplistic: maybe Ruther wanted to make sure his niece approved of her new kingdom before handing her over to Camelot. But Arthur knew better.

The _real_ reason behind that clause was far from a generous concern for the Princess' well being but rather the complete opposite. A year-time would provide a big enough window of opportunity for the Steward to expose his niece's powers to the Camelot King. And the Gods only knew what his father's reaction would then be.

Shrieking internally at the plethora of dreadful images that such fateful outcome brought to his mind, the Prince had to agree that the devious plan could potentially be quite effective for its intended purposes, as sickening as the idea was.

After going over the situation for the millionth time, Arthur found himself back at the beginning of the merry-go-round of thoughts that had plagued his mind. The Princess had given him—finally—an irrefutable reason for which theirs was indeed an ill-fated union.

Unfortunately for him, it had come too late… If he had known of this in Eleara—as originally planned by the way—his life would be much easier now. He was sure he would have found a plausible explanation for his father… even plain rebellion might have actually worked too, and none of this would have happened.

Most importantly, he wouldn't have this unbearable sensation of hopelessness he was definitely _not _used to feel. But, for better of worse, Gwynn had had that… _wonderful_ idea of hiding her identity at the beginning and he—in yet another inopportune burst of pride—had played along with it…

The end result of that odd succession of happenstances was that they had gotten to know each other, had become attached to each other… and that was where the problem indeed resided.

The simple truth was that he couldn't bring himself to leave Leoness without making sure that she would be all right.

Arthur tried a smile after having kept a stern expression throughout the night.  
The daylight seemed to have helped his brain to work after all… At long last, he had a concrete task at hand: making sure Ruther would not be able to hurt her… ever again.

A satisfied long sigh decompressed his taut chest. He was finally getting somewhere… He had a clear mission—albeit a complicated one—but at least he could _act_ on it. Passiveness was categorically not his cup of tea, thus the realization that he had something to _do_ felt nothing short of a blessing for his tired mind.

Noticing that sunrise had arrived, he sat and extended his legs on top of his desk, watching the first rays of the sun reached the window. He still had to formulate a plan though, and for that he would need information._ Reliable_ information. From where to get it was a different problem in and of itself.

Once he'd learned how the internal politics of the country were running—or _who_ was running them for that matter—he could figure out what to do to ensure Gwynn's safety.

At her memory, and against all his wishes, the second problem came back to his mind. The one he had pushed away over and over throughout the night. The one he felt he could not deal with at the moment. Simply put, the problem was what to do with her… Or, rather, with his confusing feelings _for_ her.

He couldn't marry her, could he?  
He was attracted to her like a moth to a flame, and then some… But… wasn't this what he had wanted all along?  
Wasn't he getting his way after all and remaining a bachelor?

He had come to Leoness to obtain the real, truthful reason why she didn't want to marry him… And Gwynn had given it to him… Never mind the fact that the Prince felt he had gotten far more than he had bargained for.  
At the end… Wasn't his pride safe and sound because it was not _he_, but _she_ the reason why their union would never work?

Those were empty questions now since Arthur wasn't sure what he wanted anymore… Nonetheless, somehow he did know that whatever he was getting out of this situation was _not_ part of it.

The Prince scoffed bitterly…  
It could certainly be seen as poetic justice that the heir of Camelot—of King Uther's Camelot—would be so taken by a magical being…

Was magic really so bad?  
What fault did she have for having been born with those powers?

And an even more unsettling thought… How many more people, how many of _his_ subjects, were currently in a similar plight, living in fear in Camelot and with no further fault but to have been born… special?

It was true that the Prince's experience with magic had not been—generally speaking—a good one. But it was also true that most of those situations had been acts of revenge against his father. And as much as he dreaded to admit it, the King's irrational actions against magic had obviously collected more enemies than friends.

The fact that magic could be simply a birth gift had been unknown to him. Nevertheless, and contrary to his father's beliefs, Arthur had always… sensed that not all those with magical powers were necessarily evil. It was that, until now, he had never stopped to really think about it. It had been easier to turn a deaf ear to that little voice inside that'd kept telling him to follow what was truly in his heart on that issue.

Perhaps it was time to start setting some things straight.  
At least the ones he could at the moment. He had been a silent bystander for far too long to something that—he was finding out—he did not even fully believe in.

Who knew… when he'd be king, perhaps he could do something yet more radical about it.

* * *

Merlin woke up earlier than usual. Somehow, something had disturbed his customary sound sleep… Had magic been used in this place?

He disregarded the idea while stretching and yawing.  
No. It couldn't be.

A second later the warlock sat up with a start.  
_The Princess…  
_Would she know of her powers after all?  
And if so, would Arthur know as well?

Though it was quite early, since he was awake he figured it would be better to check up on the Prince. Just in case…

Besides, he was much interested in learning about last night… Arthur's mood during the banquet had been as difficult to follow as the Labyrinth of Gedref, and so was the Princess'.

And then, they had both disappeared within minutes of each other. The Princess had retired with Helene, but Arthur had pretty much ignored him when leaving the banquet. The whereabouts of the Prince had been a mystery afterwards…

Although seeing them fight against their obvious mutual attraction had been quite amusing, Merlin was still worried about the outcome. Arthur could be really—_really_—stubborn sometimes, and going by what he had been able to gather so far, it seemed that Princess Gwynn was a serious competitor on that arena as well. Who knew which one of these two obstinate royals would prevail in an eventual battle of wills.

The warlock's current problem was, however, how to find out about what happened without being threatened with any of the new methods of torture his master was devising as of late.

_Food.  
_He would bring a good breakfast to Arthur since with a full stomach the Prince was usually a friendlier interlocutor than when hungry. Perchance then he would be content enough as to share the latest developments with the Princess.

* * *

The breakfast tray he was carrying almost fell to the floor when the wizard walked in Arthur's chambers and found his master pretty much dressed like the night before, sitting on his chair with his legs on the desk.

At the noise of the door opening, the Prince turned his weary look towards the entrance and Merlin feared the worst. Arthur's tone, however, did not sounded half as bad as his face looked.

"Merlin… Good morning" He put his feet down. "I'm glad you are early for once."

Okay then. The bickering was still there, which was good because his master let go of it only when something truly terrible had happened… or was about to…

"Good morning Arthur. Did you actually sleep last night?"

"Not really."

The answer was calmed enough too, which was also odd because without proper sleep the Prince was always very cranky. Crankier than usual, to be exact…

When setting the tray on the table, the warlock noticed that the treaty papers were spread out on the desk. His master had been doing homework it seemed.

Last, but not least, Merlin also noticed that Arthur did not jump on the food either. In his experience, the only thing that distracted the Prince from his breakfast was when something especially important was in his mind… As a rule, that would most likely be a major problem in which _he_ would get inexorably sucked into sooner or later…

By then, the warlock had decided that he probably needed to start worrying. Arthur's demeanor was beyond confusing.

"I see… Are you well?"

The Prince did not answer. His eyes were trained on the window again and Merlin was now certain that something was definitely amiss.

"Arthur?"

Finally the Prince sighed and drank the tea that had been brought for him. When he put his cup down, however, he looked at his servant and friend with a very new and very disconcerting expression in his eyes.

For a moment, Merlin felt like Arthur was seeing him for what he _really_ was; as if he knew of his secret… _his magic_, and decided to stop pretending.

But that was obviously absurd, was it not?  
What else could it be then?

"What do you know about magic Merlin?"

Needless it's to say that at this point the poor warlock only wished for the floor to open underneath his feet and the earth to swallow him into oblivion. Not only his master's entire behavior had been puzzling enough, but _that_ question was the last one he would have guessed in a million years of trying.

He only hoped that his face hadn't _totally_ transmitted the shock he had felt to his core. Maybe his intuition had been right—once again and in an inopportune moment as usual—and his secret was indeed out.

Maybe the Princess had sensed it and had told Arthur…  
Maybe…

The Prince's eyes were serene though.  
And he was calmly waiting for an answer.

Merlin swallowed the knot on his throat as inconspicuously as possible; yet his voice was slightly croaked when he answered, trying to sound witty.

"That… it is… forbidden?"

"Don't try to be funny, Merlin. It does not suit you... Not when you do it on purpose, of course." The lightly sarcastic comment had been preceded by the typical rolling of the eyes, but was followed by a serious royal order. "Answer me."

There seemed to be no way out of it—none that the young wizard could think of at least—so he would have to thread carefully and see where the conversation might lead.

"Why ask me?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes and for a second time Merlin had the keen sensation his master was seeing _through_ him. Then again, the response was quite uncompromising.

"You seem to have an opinion on everything…"

"Yes, but you never want to hear it."

"That has never stopped you before and in this case, however, I do."

Evidently, all possible ways out were closed except for one: blissful ignorance. The warlock tried this last desperate resort, coupled with the formal, dutiful treatment… and hoped for the best.

"I do not know what you are asking Sire."

Shaking his head in disbelief, Arthur chuckled and looked down, apparently giving up. Merlin sighed imperceptibly; he might have just gotten away with it… A second later, though, Gaius' words echoed in his mind:

'_We need to have faith in the great destiny that awaits you and Arthur.'_

The real implication of the circumstance downed on the wizard… The Prince had given him the opportunity to say _something_ and he had cowered away, more worried about his secret than what the question could actually mean.

And although he would rather _not_ think about the reasons behind his friend's query at the moment, he was letting this golden opportunity pass him by without even trying.

He cleared his throat.  
"Since you asked, though… I always thought that magic could be like… a sword. Your sword."

Arthur vividly looked up to him, his expression clearly indicating that the warlock had the full royal attention.

"I mean… you can wield it to defend what is good and fair in this world… or you can use it to kill innocents and just for the evil of it…"

There was no change in his master's demeanor, so Merlin continued.  
"In both cases it is you who is responsible for the good or bad of your actions… Your sword is just a sword."

An almost imperceptible nod from the Prince encouraged the wizard to finish his discourse. He shrugged his shoulders as if his next words were merely an immaterial comment.

"I know your father does not believe that… But I always thought that there is not good or bad magic… There is simply _magic_... And there are those who would use it for good and those who would do so for evil, but in itself… I think magic is neutral… And just like a sword," he added, "there are people very powerful with it and those who can barely wield it…"

There was a hint of a smile curving his master's mouth, but still he said nothing and stood up, moving towards the window.

Had the answer been what the Prince had been expecting?  
More exactly… What the hell was the Prince expecting from that question?

Although Merlin was pleased with his response and he'd congratulated himself for being honest and… stealthy at the same time, the truth was that he would really feel better if he knew what was going on in his master's head at that moment. The silence became uncomfortable for the warlock very soon, and desperately searching for a change in topics, he signaled the papers on the desk.

"Have you been reviewing the treaty?"

Arthur remained pensive for a short while but then came back to the moment… and to the breakfast tray. His disposition was quite different.

"Yes. Something is definitely odd about this." He bit a piece of cheese and the servant smiled inwardly: if the royal appetite was back, then that was a good sign. The Prince continued, somehow still lost in his own thoughts. "Ruther requested for his niece to live in Camelot for a period _not shorter_ than a year before actually agreeing to the formal marriage."

The warlock was at a loss. After thinking for a minute, he asked confused.  
"Is this condition typical of marriage treaties?"

Arthur slapped his forehead as if remembering.  
"But of course it is! How silly of me to forget that… In_ all_ my marriages I saw the same clause written in _every _treaty after all!" He glared at his manservant. "How should I know?"

The sarcasm was back too. Even better. Merlin smiled.  
"Have you asked the scribe?"

The Prince nodded while chewing on the bread.  
"He said that the treaty was legitimate, and that perhaps Ruther wants to be sure his niece liked her new kingdom before actually giving her away."

"But _you _do not think that's the reason." It was a statement, not a question.

"No. I do not. And I need to find out what's going on… For Gwynn's sake."

Excellent. It was _'Gwynn'_ again. That should also account for something too… Merlin reckoned it was a good opportunity to ask about the latest tidings on the matter when Arthur continued.

"There is something else…" He paused, serious. "Last night, when we were in the balcony, a guard was spying on us."

The warlock arched his eyebrows with an amused expression. "Was he protecting the Princess… from you?"

Arthur threw him an annoyed look but then answered, somber again.  
"Gwynn said that those were men from her uncle's personal army. At first I thought that she meant the royal guard, but later, when I startled the soldier, I saw that he was_ not_ a Leoness' royal guard."

Now _that_ was strange, even by Merlin's standards… "Why would the Steward have the need for a personal army?"

"Exactly." The Prince remained pensive, as if trying to decide on something. Apparently opting for '_no_'—going by the slight shake of his head—he continued with a different tone. "I need to find someone trustworthy in this court. Someone who cares about the Princess beyond anything else. Maybe then I can get some straight answers."

Merlin thought for a moment.  
"Why not try Sir Lescaut then? I mean… he seems very protective of the Princess and _she_ trusted him enough to take him to Eleara for the secret meeting…"

Arthur smiled openly, realizing how accurate his servant's assessment was.  
"Sometimes Merlin, you really seem to have a thought or two in that head of yours, you know?"

The warlock was about to comment on that, but the Prince beat him to it.  
"Now I need a bath and you also need to find out Lescaut's schedule for today. Get going."

* * *

Arthur found Lescaut in the training fields and watched with interest what an excellent fighter the young soldier was. He couldn't help but wonder why, if Ruther wanted to get rid of his niece as it seemed to be the case, he would appoint such a formidable guard to her.

Whatever the reason, the Prince was relieved to learn that the Knight had not only the devotion to guard the Princess, but the skills to go with it.

When the practices were over Lescaut barely acknowledged the royal presence, remaining strictly proper but as cold as usual. It was obvious to Arthur that the Knight did not like him and, in all honestly, he could not blame him... At least not for now…

"Lescaut, I need a word with you."

The squaring of the shoulders and the upfront line of vision was all the Prince got.  
"Sire."

Swallowing a smile at the stubbornness of the young knight, Arthur couldn't help but to bait him for it.  
"I know you do not particularly like me, and I believe you may have your reasons."

There _was_ a reaction in the guard's face. A mixture of annoyance and embarrassment, and this time the Prince smiled openly. He'd gotten through him.

"Sire… I"

Interrupting the discomfiture of the soldier after being confronted so bluntly with the truth, Arthur decided to help him a bit.  
"However, it's not about that I want to talk to you." He paused to allow the Knight to digest his words. "I also know that you care deeply about the Princess."

The last statement obviously hit a nerve and this time Lescaut met the Prince's gaze, even though his face was fully composed and frosty again.  
"I do, Sire. Very much."

If Arthur had had more time, he would have picked on the fact that the last part of the sentence sounded much like a veiled warning… But he'd got more important and urgent things to do at the moment than to further aggravate this uptight soldier.

"I have noticed that there are some things… at odd between the Princess and the Steward. However, I am a royal guest in a diplomatic mission and some… questions may be perceived as unnecessary prodding."

By then the Prince effectively had the guard's full attention. A perceptible narrowing of the young man's eyes told him as much.

"Among other things, I wonder why there is a parallel guard system in the Castle and why they follow the Princess permanently."

The reaction in Lescaut's face was even more evident. There was a hint of… respect in his eyes. Maybe there was something to be said about this royal after all…

Unaware of what was going through the soldier's mind, Arthur pushed on.  
"Princes Gwynn seems to trust you very much, so I was hoping you could enlighten me on such tidings… for her sake."

An internal debate to whether or not to speak was printed all over the young soldier's face. After a couple of minutes, however, he answered.

"I am probably not the best person to ask about this, your highness. I believe such affairs come from when the Princess and I were very young… Ever since the Princess' family died." He paused briefly but before Arthur could say anything, he concluded. "I think you should speak with my father, Sire."

The Prince arched his eyebrows in frank surprise.  
"And your father is…?"

"Sir Alric, Sire."

* * *

;-)


	27. Chapter 27: Politics, blades and gifts

SAME DISCLAIMER AS IN CHAPTER 1

I'm back. Sorry for the hiatus...  
Once again, life got in the way of fun.

I also discovered that re-writing the legend is more complicated than I first thought ;-)  
Although the ideas were there, linking them in a more or less coherent plot-particularly at this point where there are several players in the field-takes a lot of coordination, memory and attention... The latter very scarce lately as I've been extremely busy.

In any case, I hope you like where the plot is taking us ;-)

Thanks SO very much again for the great reviews!  
They really keep me going!

And, of course, thanks for reading! :-)

* * *

_**Chapter 27: Politics, blades and gifts**_

"You let him surprise you!" Ruther roared, ready to explode. "What kind of idiot are you!"

The guard swallowed hard. He'd already had an earful from his direct commander, who—not wanting to break the news to the Steward himself—had dragged the soldier to Ruther's private office for the explanations.

"I swear, my lord. I saw him going in the banquet room with my own eyes… I was hiding in the balcony upstairs…"He shook his head, still in disbelief. "I have no idea how he reached me so fast!"

Ruther scoffed disgustingly, now going at the commander.  
"Haven't you told them _who_ they were dealing with? The fame of the Prince's warrior skills precedes him and yet your men thought nothing of it?"

"I know, Sir. I did, however…"

"I am tired of your useless excuses!" Ruther exploded again. "Both of you!"

Everyone went silent. The Steward moved towards the window, thinking.

"And you are sure he did not ask whose orders you were following…"

"Yes Sir. He just warned me about being spied on."

The answer, far for pleasing the Steward, seemed to have incensed him even more. Both soldier and commander braced themselves for another outburst of ire, which surprisingly enough, did not come.

Ruther was beyond furious indeed, but precisely because of it, he knew that rather than yelling to his worthless aids he needed to remain calm and think… as difficult as it was at the moment.

_Damn the Prince!  
_His presence in Leoness was quickly becoming a greater nuisance than he had first thought.

Had the Camelot Heir asked on whose orders he was being spied on, it would have been easier for the Steward to argue that it was for the Princess' sake and safety. The problem was that, by _not _asking, the Prince had surely assumed something… Perhaps even close to the truth and_ that_ was a major inconvenience.

Ruther was no deluding himself… He was sure that Arthur had a suspicion that those have been _his_ orders. However, the Prince was definitely _not_ a simpleton and he must have also picked up the fact that this stupid soldier was not from Leoness' royal guard.

He needed to plan accordingly and quickly. It was going to be only a matter of time until the Prince would start making uncomfortable inquiries… Hopefully, Arthur would come to him and he would provide some plausible explanation for whatever question this annoying royal decided to ask.

Additionally, he pondered, it was going to be better to remove another… potential sources of information… Particularly those not aligned with him but with the Leoness' Crown.

_In case everything else failed, having an alternate plan would not hurt either,_ Ruther thought. He had waited for too long and it was too close to claim the throne for himself to allow some annoying youngster to get on his way, Prince or not.

He turned cold, deadly eyes to the commander.  
"Go and fetch Gurgeneu. Tell him I need him in the Citadel at once. But this time…" He stressed his words, "make sure to remind him of who is visiting the Kingdom. He will need to be extra careful not to be detected…"

Soldier and commander swallowed in unison when hearing the name. Gurgeneu had been Ruther's personal assassin ever since the Steward had taken office and every time he had been called to Leoness someone had died. They both hoped that neither of them was the target this time.

"Yes Sir."

And before his subordinates left to fulfill the request, the Steward spoke again.  
"And call Alric as well… Tell him I need him here immediately."

* * *

Walking into the Royal Guard's main quarters, Arthur crossed paths with a maid coming out of Sir Alric's office. Since the door was still opened, he walked right in somehow surprising the commander.

"Prince Arthur! What a nice surprise Sire… Come in, my lord, come in… I have a wonderful tea just brewed… It was apparently meant for us."

Arthur was taken aback by the warm welcome… How was it possible that Lescaut shared the same blood with this man? He felt immediately at ease in Sir Alric's presence… as opposed to his son, whose uptightness always managed to get under his skin.

"Good morning Sir Alric. Thank you."

"To what do I owe the honor of your visit, your highness?" Sir Alric smiled affably signaling the Prince to take a seat.

"Well… I was hoping you could shed some light on some… circumstances that have come to my attention." And answering the unspoken question of the older Knight, he explained. "I spoke earlier with your son and he recommended that I should speak with you."

Nodding in understanding, Sir Alric chuckled softly while pouring the teas. "I see… And was it before or after my son tried to bite your head off?"

The Prince was not expecting such blunt acknowledgement of Lescaut's contempt towards him, much less from his father. His eyebrows rose in surprise.

"I beg your pardon Sir?"

The laugh continued while the older knight sat heavily. "Don't worry your highness… I know Lescaut very well and I know he is a bit … overprotective when it comes to the Princess, as I am sure you have noticed by now."

It was Arthur's turn to laugh. He liked Sir Alric more and more by the moment.  
"Yes, Sir. I don't think your son likes me very much…"

"Oh… don't take it personally, Prince. Lescaut would act like that towards anyone he perceives as a threat to Gwynn…"

The statement made Arthur sobered up instantly. He stopped the cup halfway to his lips and put it down instead.  
"Am I a threat to the Princess?"

"You tell me, Sire… Are you?"

Though the older man's jovial look remained, the Prince became suddenly aware that the gentle façade was just that… Sir Alric was in truth a seasoned soldier and a _very_ dexterous aristocrat.

Between amused and amazed, Arthur realized that he had walked into the trap tended by the friendly welcome and the honest answer, and now he was on some sort of hearing it seemed. Nevertheless, his intuition also told him that the only way to get the truth out of Sir Alric—if there was actually a way—would be by being truthful himself.

"I hope not. I only wish the best for the Princess." He decided to tilt the field to his favor. "Do _you_ see me as a threat, Sir?"

"I honestly do not believe so." Alric answered directly, though his face was still unreadable underneath the friendly smile. "Although I must say that I had some reservations at first." He took a sip of his tea to let his words sink in before continuing. "Lescaut, however, probably has his own set of suspicions… His devotion for the Princess' well being sometimes blinds him to everything else… And that's probably my fault."

"Your fault?"

"Yes._ I_ was the one who appointed him as the Princess' personal guard."

That was a loud warning, as far as the Prince was concerned.  
A warning by virtue of which Sir Alric had made very clear where his loyalties laid.

A smile curved Arthur's lips slightly. That certainly explained some things, plus he was also glad his intuition had been correct. Ever since he'd met Sir Alric, it had been very apparent how much the captain cared for the Princess. It was only logical then that he had appointed his own son to protect her.

Without dropping an inch of his pleasant disposition, the Leoness' commander measured the young royal carefully. "And what are these… circumstances that have come to your attention, Sire?"

Quickly evaluating his options, the Prince decided to get right down to it.  
"Well, simply put, I have noticed that there is a… parallel army of sorts within the palace walls and I found that quite… strange, to say the least..."

It was obvious that Alric was surprised… and perhaps even pleased at the straightforwardness of the answer. Nonetheless, it was also evident that he still had reservations. His next words proved it.

"And why not speak with the Steward then…?"

Arthur smiled again. He had been expecting this question and his voice turned seriously regal.  
"Because Sir, _he_ made the offer to my royal house. However, I cannot engage Camelot in a marriage agreement with a Kingdom in a state of upheaval, as you surely understand…"

There was a visible light of admiration in the captain's eyes, and his face showed a barely concealed approval grin. The statement had sent the unmistakable message that although young, this was indeed the heir to the Camelot Crown, and most likely Leoness' future King as well.

"Of course, your highness."

Drinking from his tea, Arthur looked at the older man from above the rim of his cup with a meaningful gaze.  
"I have also noticed how strained the relation between the Princess and her uncle is, and I did not want to add to it… Especially since these guards seem to follow her constantly." He paused to put his cup down. "_Even_ when she is with me…"

The last statement made the old captain arched his eyebrows in frank surprise, all pretenses gone. He hadn't thought that Ruther would be so reckless to do something like that… not with the famed warrior from Camelot in the castle. Apparently, the Steward was getting desperate, which could be quite dangerous… at the very least.

"And you know this because…" he prompted.

"Because I caught the soldier unaware and noticed he wasn't wearing the _real_ Royal Guard uniform."

Alric sighed in relief. His instincts about the Prince had been right on target. All of them…  
Although young, Arthur surely had the awareness and diplomacy skills fit for a King… and a great one at that.

The commander thought for a second. Maybe his… _other_ instinct had been correct as well…  
"I see…" A knowing smile crowned the old man lips. "Is that _all_, Sire?"

_Oh… That's what you wanted to know_.  
Arthur finally understood what the entire line of questioning had been about. Apparently, over-protectiveness ran in the family, after all.

"No Sir." He smiled as well, trying not to blush. "I would like to be reassured of the Princess' safety. _That_ is the main reason for me being here."

A satisfied grin fully lighted up Sir Alric's face.  
"Good."

The Knight took a sip of his tea and relaxed in his chair, very pleased.  
"When Ruther announced his offer to Camelot, I had my doubts about his intentions… and so had the other nobles. After years of refusing marrying our Princess, it came as an unexpected surprise to everyone. However," he chuckled shaking his head in frank amusement. "It would seem that whatever the Steward's plans were with regards to you… they have actually backfired."

The tone of the commander changed to a solemn one for his next statement.  
"Prince Arthur, I will make you privy to certain information that has been guarded in secrecy ever since King Bedwyr and his family died. But in order to do it," he paused to stress his next point, "I will need your word that everything said here would remain between both of us."

It was a fair request. And even if it weren't, Arthur didn't have much choice. He nodded.  
"You have it Sir."

"Very well then. It may come as a surprise for you, but for several years now rather than a _steward_ Ruther has become an usurper of the throne."

By now, the Prince had guessed as much, though he chose not to make any comment. Sir Alric continued in the same tone.

"Three years ago, we went to the Steward requesting for Gwynn to marry so Leoness could go back to its royal house. Although Ruther seemed to agree, after a couple of failed suitors—some of which mysteriously died, I may add—it became obvious that he had no intention to relinquish his power."

Arthur was wondering who were these '_we_' Alric was speaking of, but dared not to ask just yet.

"Almost immediately, Ruther began to hire mercenaries. At first he said it was for his personal protection since he could not rely on the Royal Guard anymore for his safety, given the state of discontent of the body and its commanders…" The captain sighed and got up, walking towards the window before carrying on.

"Soon after, however, this… personal guard became a sizeable battalion of mercenaries, which Ruther maintains using the monies of the Kingdom." He turned towards Arthur, very serious. "Lately, things have been getting rapidly out of hands and we even began to worry for the safety of our Princess. Therefore, a couple of months ago, we confronted the Steward once again and gave him an ultimatum: either he allowed Gwynn to marry, or there would be a civil war between those loyal to the Crown and his own troops."

Alric paused briefly and then finished, sitting again.  
"As devious as the man can be, he's not an idiot and knows that the eventual coup would cause for the entire kingdom to rise against him. He's not a popular ruler and the people truly love their Princess."

_Finally!  
_The mystery behind Ruther's decision had been lifted for the Prince… The Steward had not wanted to marry his niece… he had been _forced_ to do it… And he had chosen Camelot to buy him time and, perhaps, even the throne if the Princess were to be eliminated as planned…

The thought alone made Arthur's blood freeze in his veins and he breathed in forcefully. It seemed that the situation was far more delicate than he had first thought. He was relieved beyond measure of having decided to come to Leoness since his father had said nothing of such situation. Was Uther even aware of it?

Leaving his personal feelings towards the Princess and their frustrated marriage plans aside, the Prince was now worried about his Kingdom. It would have been terrible for Camelot to enter in treaties with Leoness at the verge of a civil war.

As if reading his thoughts, the captain explained.  
"We had to keep these tidings under wraps to avoid causing panic or upheaval among the people of Leoness, Sire."

_No doubt about it… _Nodding in understanding, the Prince thought this was a good opportunity to ask.  
"Excuse me, Sir. But… who are 'we'?

"But of course… Pardon my dullness." Sir Alric chuckled at his oversight and then spoke solemnly. "_We_ are the devoted servants to the Leoness Royal House: the entire Leoness' nobility and the Kingdom's Royal Guard. _We_ have sworn loyalty to the Crown and would not see it replaced by an usurper."

He paused and leaned closer over his desk.  
"I am what you can call a 'shadow' member. It was important for us to maintain a spy within the palace walls and I volunteered for it. Ruther knows where my loyalty lays, but he has no idea that I am an actual member of the group… That's why I needed your word, your highness. There is too much riding on our endeavor and we can't simply risk it."

He smiled once again and sat back.  
"On the other hand, I know your father—or rather, knew him a long time ago—and I understand that you should be aware of the situation. Hopefully, with your marriage to the Princess, things will be back to their normal course without confrontations."

* * *

"Merlin! Where the hell have you been? I've been looking all over the place for you!"

Merlin frowned. "You have? Since when?"

"Well, perhaps not the _entire_ place," Arthur conceded, "and possibly since only two minutes ago… In any case, the question still stands: where have you been?"

The warlock looked confused. What was this upbeat disposition of his master all about?  
"With Lady Helene. She had some free time since the Princess is training and she…"

The Prince eyes lighted up, everything else instantly forgotten.  
_Gwynn was training? He had to see that!  
_"Training? Where? I haven't seen her in the fields…"

"There is a training room in the lower level of the Castle. Helene told me that she practices there alone, with her private instructor."

"Do you know where it is?" At the nodding of his servant who pointed the direction, Arthur started to walk briskly, choosing to ignore the hilarity shining in Merlin's eyes. "Come on. Let's go."

Silently laughing at his charge's enthusiasm, the young wizard decided not to comment on the topic to prevent spoiling the mood. Instead, he went for the obvious question.

"And where have_ you_ been, by the way? I lost track of your whereabouts after you left for the training fields…"

"Gathering information."

There was a strange echo in the Prince's voice, which Merlin failed to identify. Would that have been good or bad news? Again, tangential approaches always worked best in these cases.

"Something interesting?"

Arthur's eyes widened eloquently.  
"You have NO idea…"

* * *

The instructor was obviously a foreigner. His facial features and strange robes clearly indicated that his ethnical background was not from these lands or nearby ones either. He also looked very old but was startlingly quick and accurate.

They were fighting with twin swords and the thrill made Arthur's heart beat like a battle drum. Gwynn was wearing a strange leathery armor with a heavy skirt weighted even more with chainmail.

_So this is from where you get your speed when wearing dresses._

In all his years of combat, the Prince had never seen a technique like that. It was a complex choreography of agile movements and he reckoned that—though probably not apt for brute field battle—it was undoubtedly deadly on a one-to-one combat.

An awestruck smile curved his sensual lips.  
_A technique uniquely fit for a warrior princess._

"She is good…" Merlin whispered, totally mesmerized by the spectacle.

Arthur couldn't even find his voice to answer; he was simply salivating at the sight. He just wanted to be on the training floor with her… crossing blades with her… The prize he would claim afterwards was all he could think about.

Everything he had learned in the last few hours flew out of his brain completely leaving only thought: he might have been crazy to promise her to cancel the marriage agreement…

_Just look at her…  
_One way or another, he would have to find the way to marry her…

When the Prince did not answer, Merlin turned to look at his charge and grinned. His master was so fascinated by this lady that the warlock had to swallow a laugh.

It was nothing short of auspicious to see how much Arthur's frame of mind changed when he was around Gwynn. The warlock was willing to bet his powers that the Prince was genuinely happy just by being close to her.

_One royal persuaded… another one to go… _Now he just needed to convince the Princess and then his mission—as envisioned by Gaius—would be completed.

Merlin smiled. _How hard could that be anyway?  
_He couldn't picture a more perfect match. They really seemed made for each other in every possible way.

Nevertheless, it was a good opportunity to tease his charge.  
"Arthur" He whispered purposely. "Close your mouth… You are gaping."

The Prince came back to earth and looked huffily at his servant.  
"I most certainly am not!"

"Yes, you were."

"Was not!" But his eyes betrayed him and went back to her, a cocky lopsided smirk curving his lips. "I was only thinking that I would love to spar with her…"

Following his gaze, Merlin saw how she blocked the downpour of blows from her instructor's blades. "That would certainly be something worth seeing…" He mused.

"You can say that…" The Prince's eyebrows were arched in anticipation.

"But just so you know… my money is on her!"

"Shut up, Merlin."

* * *

Once the training was over, the instructor helped Gwynn out of her training gear and looked over her shoulder at the two men approaching them. The Princess turned around while drying her face with a cloth.

"Your highness, Merlin!" She greeted with an ample smile, though her eyes were puzzled. "To what do I owe this honor?"

"Princess…" Arthur's elation when he kissed her hand was almost tangible. "It is us who should thank you from the wonderful display of skills we had the pleasure to observe."

Gwynn's crystalline laugh echoed in the big room. Whatever her initial bafflement might have been, it was completely gone.  
"Your highness… Flattery would get you anywhere, right?"

"One can always hope, Princess…" Arthur's mischievous grin did his magic and she blushed from head to toe.

Merlin had been quietly observing the exchange and was biting his inner cheek not to laugh. They were so besotted with each other that he wondered if they remembered they were _not_ alone. And the strange instructor, by the way, was very serious… and still armed.

As if in cue, Gwynn seemed to come back to reality first and rescuing her hand from Arthur's, turned around towards the foreign warrior.

"Prince Arthur and Merlin are visitors from Camelot." She introduced. "This is my instructor and teacher, Ashraf. Ashraf was my mother's trainer before me. He has been a good friend of the family for many years now."

She bowed her head to the elder in respect and he bowed back, smiling placidly and replying with a thick accent. "Queen Binne was a most apt pupil. Only surpassed by her daughter."

"I could see how excellent the Princess' skills are indeed." Arthur interjected, making the Princess blush once again under his roguish smile. He then turned to the foreign warrior. "I really admire your technique Ashraf. I would like to converse more with you about it and perhaps even spar if you would consent to it."

The instructor bowed his head in acceptance. "Prince Arthur, your fame as a warrior precedes you. I am most honored that you approve of my technique and I am at your orders, Sire."

The light spirits of the moment suddenly reminded the Prince of an overlooked matter. He then moved into his next plan, surprising even Merlin with his request.

"Princess, I was wondering if you could accompany me for a moment? There is something I'd like to show you."

* * *

"The stables my lord?"  
The Princess was between confused and diverted.

"That's right my lady …" A grinning Prince chivalrously opened the door to let Gwynn go in. "I have yet to give you your gift."

Merlin was about to step in too, but a look from his charge told him he was obviously _not_ going inside. Right, he should check the door… as usual.

"My gift?" The Princess was even more puzzled.

"Of course…." Arthur chuckled. "I could not very well show up empty-handed after being treated so magnificently in Eleara, could I?" He joked. "There she is…"

Gwynn went mute for a moment and her green eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the horse. The child-like bewilderment in her face told the Prince that his gift had been indeed perfectly chosen.

"Heavens, my lord… She is beautiful!"

Arthur's smile widened—if that was actually possible—and self-satisfaction spread all over his face as he watched the Princess slowly walking into the stall where the mare was meekly eating.

"Be careful, my lady… She is still quite willful…"

Shaking her head and with a marveled expression in her face, Gwynn tenderly caressed the horse, which seemed completely at ease with her.

"Nonsense… She is probably just misunderstood…"

The Prince's eyebrows shot up, amused at her comment. Only she could say something like that…  
"From one willful creature to another you mean?"

Gwynn disregarded his pun but shot him an expressive glance that clearly said _"Really, my lord, you are calling me willful?"_

Arthur laughed joyfully. Though no words had been spoken, he knew exactly what she had meant.  
He walked into the stall and stood next to her.  
"How are you going to name her?"

Her answer came straight away, as if she didn't even need to think about it. "Ceara."

The silent question of the Prince was quite eloquent as well, so Gwynn promptly explained.  
"It means _fiery red_ in my foremothers' tongue."

A glow of wonder shone in Arthur's smile. _Well done my lady.  
_"Extremely appropriate." He reached for the horse. "Well then, Ceara. This is your new mistress. Be good to her."

After all they had shared and confronted, whenever they were together the true nature of their feelings and their friendship and mutual trust, which had blossomed against all odds, became a living entity that flooded the space around them without fail.

Curiously, at the moment, none of the royals was fully aware of such detail, even though a comfortable silence had set in, as always. They were both caressing the nose of the mare.

"You remembered…" Gwynn mused softly.

The intimacy of the moment had dried the Prince's mouth and his voice sounded lower and raspier than usual.  
"I remember everything…"

It was obvious they were not talking about the horse anymore and a lump rose to the Princess' throat. The truth was that not even in her wildest dreams she had dared to fantasize with a man like Arthur…

Back in Eleara she had made peace with the reality that although they could never be, she would love this Prince forever… But now, the knowledge that she could at least enjoy his friendship was an unexpected blessing that made her heart soar.

On impulse, she closed the distance between them and kissed him softly on the cheek.  
"Thank you Arthur… You have no idea what this means to me…"

The surprise for her actions nailed the Prince to the floor and he couldn't move. The feeling of those wondrous lips on his skin and her enervating perfume, however, sent his blood in a rampant boiling.

His arm shot out instinctively preventing her from retreating and they remained close. So close he could feel her soft, uneven breath on his face, adding to his turmoil.

_And the way she had said his name_… Gods… He wanted… No, he needed to kiss her… Just once more…

The door of the stable flew open and made Gwynn to jump startled and Arthur to release his iron hold on her waist. One of the Stewards' guards walked in purposely followed a step behind by Merlin, who had an apologetic smile on his face.

Arthur glared at his servant… though he immediately reasoned he should be thankful. A minute later and he would have yielded to his desire… And as much as he wanted it, their situation had changed and things were not simple anymore.

"Princess, Sir Ruther wants to see you in the throne room immediately."


	28. Chapter 28: The power of information

SAME DISCLAIMER AS IN CHAPTER 1

Hello my friends.  
Beware of another_ very_ long chapter (by my reckoning, the longest one yet).

The plot is thickening and I hope the story still lives up to your expectations.  
I know the pace may seem slow— for a fanfiction story I mean— but I honestly try to weave a consistent plot without too many holes in it...  
At least, that's what I _try_ to do.. Not sure I'm always succeeding, but the effort is there, hehe

I can only keep thanking the group of you who always takes the time to review every chapter...  
It is not only very rewarding, but also an extremely good incentive to keep on going :-) :-)

Thanks SO much once again.

* * *

_**Chapter 28: The power of information**_

"So, let me get this straight…" Merlin went back to the conversation once again, completely annoyed because his master wasn't paying attention at all to such ostensibly important topic. "You suspect that Sir Ruther is concocting some devious plan to keep the throne for himself."

"Yes."

"But you are _not_ marrying the Princess…"

Arthur was fixing his belt and did not even react to the comment. Merlin tried again.  
"Even thought your marriage with her would actually _prevent_ the Steward to access the throne and solve all the problems… "

Another one-word reply was all the warlock got out of his master.  
"Correct."

"I see…"

Merlin remained pensive— by then very much confused in addition to frustrated—and the Prince looked up. A pensive Merlin generally meant a downpour of questions… Not that he had any intention to answer them anyway. Still, Arthur reckoned that if he were to disclose the truth to his servant, Merlin would stop asking.

'_A straight answer is the best way to stop annoying questions' _one of his old tutors used to joke.

The Prince knew that by own experience… He had pursued the Princess all the way to Leoness because she had been systematically evasive with her responses. The moment she had told him the truth, all remaining inquisitiveness had disappeared and there had been nothing left to talk about the matter.

_Sadly..._

The reality was that he had promised Gwynn and Sir Alric to maintain confidentiality in what he had been made privy to—in both cases—and he was not going to break his word, not matter how bothersome Merlin's questions got.

He chuckled mentally thinking how aggravated Gwynn might have been at his constant prodding… Perhaps putting up with Merlin's… inquisition was the Gods' way to penalize him for _not_ taking the Princess' word for it and leave her alone when he should have… He swallowed a smile.

"Arthur" Merlin purposely decided. "You _do _realize that you are not making any sense, right?"

Arthur finished putting on his red jacket and smirked to his servant, patting him on the shoulder in his way out of the quarters.

"Then you know how I feel about your babblings."

**

* * *

**

After the interlude in the stables—for which he was still reeling in—Arthur had received word that the Steward expected to have dinner with him and his niece. The idea of sharing a table with Gwynn's would-be-assassin was possibly one of the less palatable things the Prince had been forced to do.

Then again, at least he would have the opportunity to spend more time with the Princess, even if it was in the format of an uncomfortable royal dinner with her uncle in the middle.

The discussion with Sir Alric had also left him worried. The Leoness' commander seemed to be under the impression that the marriage would take place. In fact, he'd been very much _hopeful_ about it. Arthur had not wanted to dismiss the notion so earlier in the game and had remained silent.

Otherwise, it would have meant to disclose Gwynn's reasons to reject the idea—namely her powers—and the Prince had not wanted to betray her trust. According to Gwynn, nobody but Helene knew of that, and he had promised to be discreet about it.

Walking towards the dining room, the Prince frowned. He had been asking questions left and right and all of a sudden he discovered that he'd gotten far more than he had bargained for.

He'd gotten his answers, yes. Nevertheless, he had been sworn to secrecy in every case and now—even with all the information at hand—he was at a loss about how to use it without disclosing what he had promised not to divulge.

It also downed on Arthur that as much as he disliked politics, ever since the entire marriage affair had begun, he'd been doing just that… With his father, with Ruther, with Alric…

The thought brought up his trademark lopsided smirk, which clearly spoke of his self-satisfaction. He was not that bad at it, it'd seem…

_Not bad at all, if I may say so myself_…  
He almost chuckled out loud.

Tonight would be yet another test of his diplomacy and negotiation skills and he felt he was prepared for it. The fact was that he had more information on his hands than any of the other persons involved—whether Ruther, Sir Alric or even Gwynn, who still did not know he'd been talking with the commander.

Therefore, he would obviously have an advantageous edge in whatever conversation he was to engage with the Steward. His eyebrows rose slightly in candid amazement: information was indeed a powerful weapon if wielded correctly… Go figure…

* * *

The dinner had progressed without major incidents, except for the fact that Arthur had been having a hard time trying to avoid staring at the Princess too much. She was… breathtaking in her white-silver gown with a very interesting décolletage, which—to his enjoyment and dismay—kept relentlessly attracting his eyes.

The Prince would have bet his crown that Ruther was again the main responsible of her overly desirable looks… And because of that, he had no doubt that any additional comment from his part about her… ravishing appearance would definitely provoke a caustic retort of the likes he'd gotten at the ball… something along the line of thanking her uncle...

All and all, Gwynn had tried to maintain a calm demeanor and even a fairly civil one with her uncle. But the tension between them was so thick it could have been cut with a knife.

Ruther's voice brought the Prince out of his reflections.  
"So, your highness, I understand you have been visiting our royal guard's quarters today..."

Arthur pondered his reply for an instant and chose a tangent to the topic. Instead of answering directly, he mused with a cold, sarcastic smile.  
"I suppose it may take me some time to get used to the privacy rules in Leoness, Sir."

Gwynn almost choked with her drink and Ruther's face lost all its colors while swallowing hard.  
"What… what do you mean Sire?"

"Hadn't one of your guards given you a message?"

The Prince grabbed his cup with deliberately slow movements, carefully studying the Steward's reactions. When it seemed that the man was about to burst and lose his composure, Arthur let out a reassuring chuckle.

"Of course, I only meant to scare him, that's all… Truth is, I thought that it could teach him a lesson about the importance of knowing the target." He shook his head and went back to his food.

The perfectly executed routine of the Prince effectively managed to put the Steward back at ease and cleared the atmosphere a bit. With the exception, perhaps, of Gwynn who had been mutely listening to the interchange and was feeling her skin crawl in indignation.

"But, yes, of course… I almost forgot" Ruther sneered disgustingly and lied trying to dismiss the issue. "Although since you brought it up, I believe I owe you an apology, your highness. My guards have orders to always watch out for the safety of my niece. When they saw you going into the balcony, they might have worried about Gwynn and followed you."

The Princess was looking totally appalled and her gaze kept going from one man to another. Her uncle was lying through his teeth, though nothing was strange about it. But the Prince should have known better… She _had_ told him about those guards and yet it seemed that he was dismissing the matter as some minor mishap of an idiotic soldier.

A little voice told her that since she actually _did not know_ what Arthur was talking about, she should give him the benefit of the doubt. But her anger was rapidly climbing… and the fact that the Prince had suddenly chosen to completely ignore her only fueled it even more.

"Of course."

When Arthur merely agreed without lifting his eyes from the food, he clearly heard Gwynn's sharp intake of air and knew he would have a lot of explaining to do afterwards…

What the Princess did not know either was that Arthur was purposely averting her eyes. He realized that—being unaware of his confrontation with the soldier the night of the ball—Gwynn was obviously at a loss about the current conversation.

In any case, he had to maintain the pretenses and was afraid that one look into her hurt and confused green eyes could eventually cause his impeccably mounted charade to crumble in pieces.

He would straighten the situation with her lately.  
_Hopefully… If the Gods were to be merciful with him…_  
For now, unhinging the Steward was far more urgent.

Ruther continued, seemingly pleased.  
"But you did well scaring him. He was obviously a young and inexperienced recruit. I gave him and his commander an earful this morning."

Still, the Steward wanted to know what businesses the Camelot Heir had had with the royal guard. "So, have you spoken with anyone during your visit to the quarters?"

There was not going to be a way out of the question, Arthur figured. Not that he had expected Ruther to drop the issue so easily either. He could release _some_ information and see how this disgusting man would react to it.

"I spoke with Sir Alric, as a matter of fact."

The face of Ruther began to loose colors again. That was evidently _not_ the answer he would have liked to hear; but the Prince continued casually, trying with all his might to ignore the anxiety he knew Gwynn was enduring behind her impassible mask.

"One of things I intend to do while here, besides enjoying your wonderful hospitality that is," he joked to make light of the situation, "is to evaluate the capabilities of Leoness' military branch since part of the agreement mentions the sharing of forces at the borders."

Ruther was pleased again with the flattering reply and found it reasonable. Perhaps he had worried unnecessarily.

When the Prince saw that his interlocutor had settled back, however, he pressed on again.  
"I was hoping that Sir Alric could give me a more detailed briefing tomorrow."

The disgusting face of the Steward contorted in a barely contained satisfied sneer.  
_No chance in hell for that, my Prince. _

"I'm afraid it is not going to be possible. Sir Alric and three large battalions are departing Leoness as we speak."

Arthur and Gwynn looked at each other startled by the news, alertness written in both their faces. Fortunately, Ruther was still focused on his food and his apparent complacency, and kept talking oblivious of their reaction.

"We've received rumors from our most northern borders on the coast that barbarians are planning to disembark there… Thus Alric and his men went to assess the situation."

Arthur narrowed his eyes. The correct way to read this was that Ruther was emptying the barracks of soldiers loyal to the Crown and sending Alric away… He was undoubtedly planning something.

"Isn't it too risky to send such a large force based only on rumors?"

Wrong question it seemed… The Steward glared, noticeably angry, and Arthur internally kicked himself. His heightened military senses had momentarily taken over, almost overriding what his newly discovered _diplomatic _ones had achieved tonight. He immediately shifted gears and asked innocently.

"I mean … who would guard the Citadel, my lord?"

It was seemingly a good diversion because Ruther put his guard down again, smiling arrogantly.  
"We have other resources, your highness. Do not worry. You and your men are well protected within these walls."

"I am sure we are."

The elegant cynicism of the Prince was totally lost to the old man, who changed topics quickly lest the conversation turned to less cordial matters.

"I have been thinking that Gwynn could give you a tour for our lands tomorrow. That would give you a chance to know the Kingdom better."

Before another word could be spoken, the Princess unexpectedly came out of her shell with a cold and assertive tone.  
"Tomorrow is the day I visit the house of healings, Uncle. I do not wish to cancel that."

"But darling…" The greeted teeth under the fake smile utterly negated the endearment. "We have royal visitors and _your intended_ no less… You can surely go another time…"

The atmosphere charged again as the Lady of Leoness took office and rebutted with a regal tone that left no doubt _who was_ the royal one between the two relatives.

"I have promised I would go tomorrow and I have no time to rectify. I would not break my promise. There are children amongst those who are expecting me. I see no reason to cancel this for a tour with the Prince."

It was evident to Arthur that the entire conversation had exceedingly upset Gwynn and her temper was flaring out. And it was also clear that her uncle was never amicable to yielding and would not accept a 'no' for an answer.

With the tension between uncle and niece rising to dangerous levels, the Prince reckoned that it was probably a good time to intervene with a compromising solution. Although his face remained imperturbable, his blue gaze was pleading Gwynn to acquiesce.

"If I may… I would love to accompany the Princess to the house of healings. When she is done, if we have time, we can ride through the land." He paused for a second and smiled, abruptly inspired. "It could also be a good opportunity to take Ceara out."

The initial fire in Gwynn's eyes dimmed a little at the mention of her horse. She slightly furrowed her forehead as if understanding that the Prince might have some pre-conceived plan after all. Before she could answer, however, her uncle asked confused.

"Ceara?"

Still fuming, she managed to reel on her anger a bit and replied as composedly as she could.  
"It's my new horse. Prince Arthur's gift."

The Steward lifted an eyebrow. Something was amiss there, he could smell it.  
How could the Prince have known that a horse would be a more adequate gift for his infuriatingly spirited niece than… a jewel, as the case might be?

His voice was drenched with suspicion.  
"It is an interesting choice of a gift for a Princess, don't you think Sire?"

Once again, the Prince was ready for him.  
"A lucky guess I imagine…" He chuckled, though quickly explained. "The truth is that we have very good intelligence gathering in Camelot, Sir."

Arthur let his statement sink in before continuing, purposely leaving the Steward wondering what _exactly _his words had implied.

"The Princess' riding skills are known far and wide across your borders… As are her warrior skills, which I had the opportunity to observe first hand today."

The fascination in the young royal's eyes made the Steward grinned in malicious complacence.  
_You like her, don't you Prince Arthur…? Then sign the damn contract and she'd be all yours…At least until your father gets to deal with her… _

"I am pleased to learn that you both have already had some opportunity to get acquainted with each other then."

Arthur shot a significant look to the lovely Princess in front of him.  
"We have been making some progress…"

The double meaning of his words and his impish smile made Gwynn blush furiously, to the delight of both men. Arthur's delight because he just loved the way her face heated up under his gaze; Ruther's, because that meant that the Prince_ would_ sign the treaty sooner than later.  
Speaking of the treaty…

"I see you are still going over the agreement terms..."

The Prince tore his gaze from the enthralling green eyes that were blazing with cold fury, and turned towards Ruther. The opening couldn't be more perfect…

"Indeed. And now that the topic has been brought up, it just occurred to me that there is a particular clause which we may want to re-write."

Rewriting the treaty was absolutely out of the question for the Steward, but evidently he could not dismiss the royal heir so quickly.  
"And what's that?"

"Since I am here, I do not think that there is a reason for Prince Gwynn to reside in Camelot for such long period of time before the wedding."

Bull's eye. The Steward was clearly freaking out.

Trying to swallow the bile that was rising to his throat as inconspicuously as possible, Ruther pretended to be interested.  
"Really? And why is that?"

The Prince was enjoying this. He put on his most innocent expression and spoke as if he was excited to have come up with such… improvement for the contract.

"Well… I can see how busy the Princess' agenda is with all her royal activities." He paused to briefly gaze at Gwynn with a reverential look. "I've mentioned already that I find her interest in the people quite endearing as it's an excellent quality in a Queen."

Far from being flattered, the would-be-Queen was looking like she could murder him… And a similar look was distorting her uncle's face, come to think of it.  
_Who knew they could actually agree on something! _  
The thought almost made Arthur laugh out loud, but remained impassible in his performance.

"I am afraid that taking the Princess away from her duties may not set well with the people of Leoness." He chuckled. "I do not want to begin my own royal duties as a consort King with the people already angry at me for that reason…"

The Steward found his voice, which was hoarse with the wrath he'd been swallowing during the Prince's discourse.

"But Gwynn _will_ reside in Camelot when she marries you."

"Yes, but by then, both countries would be united under one crown. Taking her away as a _Princess_ could be seen as nothing else but to… steal her, for lack of a better word."

Both dining companions were left speechless at the argument, and Arthur marveled at his ability to alienate uncle and niece at the same time, though for different reasons. He had to hold back another chuckle thinking of what Merlin would have to say about that.

"But do not worry. I have my scribe with me and I will ask him to draft out some ideas, which we can discuss in the next couple of days." He finished smiling.

The peace had been definitely broken and the air had grown dense with tension.

In any case, the Prince's mission had been fully accomplished: the Steward was visibly distraught and feeling trapped. The change in plans would most likely cause for Ruther to make a wrong move and thus he would be exposed for what he truly was.

It was going to be necessary to be extra careful, though, particularly for the Princess' safety… Arthur's thoughts were interrupted when Gwynn purposely set her napkin on the table and stood up.

"Since it seems that my presence here is not required to discuss _my_ future after all" She hissed with all the derisiveness of the world. "And being that tomorrow I have a very busy day, I will retire for the night. Good night sirs."

Without even waiting for the men at the table to properly acknowledge her departure, the Princess turned on her heels and headed for the door.

The darkening shade of crimson on Ruther's face indicated that he was about to explode, and so Arthur quickly stood up, once again getting on the line of fire to prevent a catastrophe. He looked at the Steward's understandingly.

"Do not worry on my account, my lord."

But Ruther was beyond furious, and it was clearly _not_ because of the breech in protocol rules.  
"That girl never learned to respect my orders!"

"I am sure she does, Sir. She's probably just exhausted by her training and my presence here seems to overwhelm her."

Badly controlling his rage, the Steward looked at the Prince meaningfully.  
"You always seem to excuse her appalling behavior, Sire… May I ask why?"

Thinking quickly, the Prince went for the salacious angle and put on a nasty, lecherous smile.  
"Because I actually find her temper more than enticing, Sir. Whether here or in Camelot, something tells me I will not be bored…"

Arthur was glad she was out of earshot. He hadn't meant the wicked undertone of his words, but he needed to placate the Steward. The crude statement seemed to have done it. Or so he thought…

"Fair enough, Sire."

The Prince nodded briefly and left the room.

Ruther, however, had not swallowed Arthur's explanation. He had simply agreed to it so the young royal would leave him alone… He needed to regroup and plan.

The Prince was infatuated; no doubt about it. But the Steward feared that he might have miscalculated the apparent power of his niece's beauty.  
The suggestion of not moving her to Camelot… Was it truly the Prince's idea or would Gwynn have hinted something?

Would she be able to manipulate Arthur with her charms?  
If so, Ruther's plan could easily fall through.

He had been counting on a Pendragon like Uther… Cold-blooded and driven by ambition.  
But he had been wrong.  
It was not only that the times have changed… Prince Arthur was _nothing_ like his father.

Whatever the case, he was running out of time. He would have to shift strategies and go by the one that would provide quicker results. Gurgeneu should be coming soon anyway...

* * *

Although Arthur walked hurriedly out of the dining room, Gwynn was nowhere to be seen. Only when he turned the corner leading to the longer corridor he was able to see a flying piece of silvery white fabric from her skirt turning at the other end of the hallway.

He sped up his long strides until she was only a few yards in front of him.  
"Princess!"

She didn't acknowledge the call nor slowed her pace.

"Princess Gwynn, wait!"

They were approaching her room and Arthur hurried even more. If she were to enter, he was sure she was not going to open her door to him. At last he caught up with her just in time, and grabbed her.

Gwynn turned around completely enraged and jerked her arm free.  
_The nerve of this Prince!_

Arthur let her go with an apologetic smile. The guards at the end of the corridor were already on alert and he didn't need a confrontation. Ruther's guards or not, the soldiers would come to her aid if a problem was perceived.

"I'm sorry…" He kept his voice down, hoping to be out of audible range from the guards. "I need to speak with you."

"I do not even want to see you right now." She whispered through clenched teeth. "What makes you think I would speak with you?"

"Some things I've said might have led to a misunderstanding and…"

"Misunderstanding? Is that what you call it?" Her voice kept rising; she was really mad. "I _misunderstood_ your collusion with my uncle in deciding _my_ life as if I haven't even been there?

"I know it looked like that, but it truly was not what it seemed…"

"Oh… really." She scoffed bitterly. "You really must think me a nitwit your highness… Please, explain to me what was that all about? But use small words as I might not be able to follow you…"

Arthur's patience was diminishing at a rapid rate and her sarcasm only accelerated the process. Somehow this woman had the ability to make him loose his temper quite easily.

He looked at the guards. This was not a place for a scene, and given her state of exasperation, there was a high likelihood that the conversation would escalate in that direction… and soon.

He opened the door of her room and grabbing her hand, walked them both inside closing the door after him. Gwynn was not downright scandalized at his actions, but before she could say anything he spoke again.

"I'm just trying to help you Princess…"

_This man did not even know when to stop, did he?  
_"I don't need your help!"

"Oh, really…" He mocked… half mad, half amused…, which only helped to fuel her fury even more.

"I do not!" She stressed caustically. "All I needed from you was to cancel the treaty…"She lifted an admonishingly finger. "I trusted you..." The finger quickly found a target on his chest. "I confided in you..." Another resolute poke accompanied her words. "And you promised…"

Arthur grabbed her hands before she could continue poking him, trying not to laugh, but in all honesty the situation had become amusing to him despite its gravity.  
"And once I tell your uncle that we're not getting married, what do you think is going to happen?"

She stopped fighting him to free her hands and lowered her eyes. He had a point there…

Arthur's tone changed to a softer one. Maybe she would listen now.  
"I cannot do that now, Gwynn. How long do you think it would be until your uncle decides to kill you when the marriage doesn't go as he's planned?"

She remained silent, her head low, and the Prince carried on in a soothing voice.  
"You know that the internal peace of your beloved Leoness is balancing on the edge of a blade. You need me to stall your uncle for as long as I can…"

Gwynn's shoulders fell as she nodded in agreement… With a deep sigh that spoke of her distress, she lifted worried eyes towards Arthur.  
"I did not know that he had virtually emptied the barracks… We're at the mercy of his mercenaries now."

The Prince smiled… She had been thinking exactly like he had…  
"That's why you need to play along. Let us wait for Sir Alric to return and then we'll decide what to do. I gave you my word, my lady. I will not back up on that…"

_Unless you ask me to._

"You are right. Of course." She raised her hand to her forehead, composing herself. "And I apologize. You are being a trusted ally and I've been…"

"A spoiled little brat?"

Her beautiful lips opened in a truly appalled gap at his playful wink…  
"I cannot believe you just called me that!"

Though apparently outraged, her eyes were laughing at his pun… Just in case, however, Arthur's hands went up in peace…

"It wasn't me throwing a tantrum at the dinner table, if I recall correctly..."

"I did behave horribly, didn't I?"She shook her head, giggling and a little embarrassed as well. "I know it is not an excuse, but Ruther cares so little about my people that for many years this has been a constant source of argument with him..."

Then she scowled at him, only _half _joking.  
"And your little charade there did not help matters either!"

The Prince laughed unreservedly. _Couldn't she be any more adorable?_  
Stopping his thoughts for wandering onto forbidden territory, he sobered up.  
"I know… But this is not the time for rush decisions. We need to remain calm and act according to the developments."

And just like that, the familiar and comforting feeling of togetherness cocooned them once again.

Gwynn looked at him pensively and a small smile made its way to her lips. Her eyes shone playfully sending Arthur's pulse into a crazy race. What was that look?

"What…?"

She crossed her arms, mischievousness written all over her face.  
"For someone who said to prefer the battle field to the court because of the politics, you are an incredibly gifted diplomat, your highness."

A sudden blush as the totally unexpected compliment covered Arthur from head to toe… The noticeable admiration in her tone made his heart beat twice as fast as it had been already, and threatened to jump off his chest …

But Gwynn wasn't done with her questions and a moment later she narrowed her eyes on him.  
"And what did you speak with Alric?"

_Oh… yes… Sir Alric…_ The Prince made a face… She was _not_ going to like the answer.  
"I cannot divulge that my lady. I gave him my word…"

Sure enough, her temper flared up again.  
"What_ is it _that you are doing my lord?"

Not being able to help himself any longer, Arthur moved closer and caressed her terse cheek with his knuckles.  
"I'm trying to help you, I told you."

The devastating tenderness of his gesture effectively knocked down all walls and erased all doubts from her heart. Her eyes were wide and bright.  
"Why?"

_Because I won't be able to live with myself if something were to happen to you…  
_"Because that's what friends do… They help and watch out for each other."

She beamed… That was right… He _was_ her friend…  
_Arthur… _  
Unfailing, magnificent…, infuriatingly adorable Arthur was her friend…

"Do you trust me, Gwynn?"

His deep voice brought her out of her reverie, yet rather than answering she moved forward and rested her head on his chest. The gesture alone shook the Prince to his core.

"Of course I do Arthur. Thank you…"

Without thinking, his arms delicately encircled her on a soft embrace. He tried to maintain it as _friendly_ as possible… But she relaxed on his chest, comfortably and unquestioningly, and his arms tightened further around her lithe frame.

Having her this close was pure torture, and Arthur shut his eyes almost in pain…  
_For someone who owns the fire, my lady, don't you realize how dangerous is to play with it?_

She freed herself with a peaceful smile and the Prince confirmed his suspicions: Gwynn was perfectly clueless about the havoc her actions had raised inside him.

"I like that…"

The cerulean eyes of the Prince were unusually dark and fogged further, confused at her words.  
Gwynn smiled again.  
"I like being your friend …"

Swallowing the lump on his throat, Arthur knew at that moment that he would do anything for her…

But because of the treacherous effect of her closeness… and that alluring décolletage that had invited his eyes all night long—and now was blatantly temping his lips as well—he knew he should leave…  
Otherwise, he would be liable to do anything _to_ her right then and there…

At this point, he only dared to gently grace her hand with a kiss.  
"I'll see you tomorrow for our outing then."

* * *

Somewhere outside Leoness' borders…

"Sir Ruther requests your presence in the Citadel." The croaked voice of the soldier left no doubt of the depth of his fears.

The hooded figure chuckled menacing.  
"Who does this time the Steward needs to eliminate?"

"I don't know, my lord." The guard knees were also shaking. "He does not share that information with me."

"Good. Then I won't have to kill you then."

The comment, though supposedly reassuring, did not help much to calm down Ruther's mercenary. Nonetheless, he delivered the rest of his message.  
"The Steward also wants to make you aware that the Prince of Camelot is visiting the Citadel. He said that you should be most careful not to be detected. The Prince and his knights are suspicious of the situation in Leoness and they will be extra alert."

"Arthur Pendragon is in Leoness?" The barely visibly mouth underneath the hood curved in an evil smile. "How convenient… Go back and tell Ruther I will be there tomorrow."

Once the soldier left, the hooded man turned to one of his associates.  
There would be no loose ends...

"Follow him until he reaches Leoness' lands and kill him."

The other assassin nodded and headed to the door. Before he left the shack, the leader spoke once again.

"And put him back on his mount …" Another malevolent smile further distorted his disfigured jaw. "The horse should take him back to the Citadel… Ruther would know that I'm coming..."


	29. Chapter 29: Remember me?

SAME DISCLAIMER AS IN CHAPTER 1

Hello again everyone.  
For those in US, I hope everyone has had a very nice and safe Thanksgiving Holiday :-)

Another fairly long chapter ahead, which I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing it ;-)

Once again, to those who always take the time to review every chapter...THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH.  
Your encouraging words keep the muses coming...

Let us get on with the story...

* * *

_**Chapter 29: Remember me?**_

The morning after the momentous dinner Helene hurried to her mistress' quarters feeling fairly anxious. Oddly enough, Gwynn hadn't required her services following the event, nor called upon her to converse afterward…

A trend—the maid was coming to realize—that seemed to have been developing ever since the Prince arrived in Leoness… And that was not the only strange behavior Helene had observed during the last couple of days…

Just the day before, the Princess had received her with the news of her _full disclosure_ to the Camelot heir. Yet instead of distressed… or even a bit fretful, Gwynn had been in high spirits and relaxed.

Her mistress had argued that her good mood was _only_ the result of the '_incredibly liberating experience of finally telling the truth'_, as defined by the royal herself. Helene hadn't had any other choice but to agree in view of the circumstances… Nevertheless, the sharp maid suspected that there was something else…

Then the previous night, and right before dinner, the Princess' temper had flared once more when she was again forced to wear the attire the Steward had chosen… A quite stunning and equally revealing gown, truth be told. Gwynn's demeanor had been quite bellicose after that, and the lady in waiting was worried about what might have happened.

With everything that had been going on lately, Helene was not sure of what to expect that morning, but she had certainly_ not_ been expecting the Princess to be up, brushing her hair and humming some tune. Apparently, the surprises continued…

"Helene! Good morning!" Gwynn's radiant smile lighted up the entire room.

"Good morning Gwynn… You seem really happy this morning." She commented grabbing the brush and continuing the task. "I gathered everything went well last night?"

"Actually, it went horribly. Ruther was as spiteful as ever… and for a moment there, so was Arthur."

Helene noticed the name.  
_I see that he is Arthur now…_

"The Prince? Spiteful?" That was certainly hard to believe…

"Well… Yes. During dinner at least; but we spoke afterward…" Gwynn looked at her through the mirror, grinning. "He'd been only prodding my uncle."

The maid lifted an eyebrow.  
"Had he?"

"Oh, yes. He had…" The Princess agreed meaningfully and let out a giggle. "When he told Ruther that there was no need for me to go to Camelot before the wedding, I thought my uncle was going to explode!"

The brush dropped from Helene's hand, her mouth agape.  
"Are you getting married now?"

"Of course not!" Gwynn scoffed. "It was simply part of the Prince's scheme to find out what my uncle is planning…" She deliberately obviated the details to avoid worrying her maid too much. "He is simply trying to help me out of this situation."

The brushing resumed, but Helene remained pensive…  
"I see…" She looked at her mistress with skeptical eyes. "Though I wonder… If you are _not_ marrying the Prince… Why do you think he is helping you with this?"

"Well…" The embarrassed blush of the Princess proved the maid's unspoken point beyond any doubt. "He… I mean, I think…"

There was no need for Helene to utter a word, as her penetrating grey eyes were silently laughing at her mistress' sudden lack of eloquence.

"He is a good friend!" The Princess' eyes narrowed at the not-so-veiled implications of her maid's jokingly look.

_Oh… Really?  
_"A _friend_ you say…"

"Of course…"

Shaking her head, Helene put on her classic _'I-know-better'_ expression…

"All right, all right…" The Princess admitted grumpily at first, and then her besotted smile spoke clearly of where her thoughts had suddenly wandered.

"It is _impossible_ not to love him…" Gwynn continued and sighed, lost in some tender memory. A moment later, she resumed with her previous matter-of-fact demeanor. "But just because he knows the truth now and accepts me as a friend, that does not mean he can marry me."

_Cannot or will not my lady?  
_"And you are sure he does not _want_ to marry you…"

"Of course I'm sure!" Gwynn frowned. "Even if for some… miracle he could overcome his own feelings towards my powers, he would never go against the rules of his King… of his own father."

Helene began to braid the auburn tresses, still unconvinced.  
"I see… And you are also sure this is what _you_ want…"

There was a momentary silence during which the Princess seemed to ponder the question attentively. At the end, she just shook her head with a sad smile.

"What I want is of not consequence here, my friend…" Gwynn turned around, serious. "I would _never _let him do that, Helene… I cared too much for him to allow it…"

All right, it seemed that the Princess was convinced that she had all the pieces of that puzzle put together… Helene was still thinking that it was _not_ the case, but knew better than to argue the point at the moment.

"What are you going to do then?"

"Nothing… " Gwynn shrugged her shoulders, smiling in resignation. "As his ally and friend, I hope to be able to help him become the great King I know he will be… But there is nothing else I can do…"

Helene only nodded in pretended agreement and finished the long braid, her face revealing nothing of what she was truly thinking.

_I believe you are presuming of knowing his feelings too much, my lady… And you are already making decisions for him, which are not yours to make… Not that I'd be able to make you see that right now…_

* * *

The group of servants carrying food and gifts to the house of healings was in front of the stables, waiting for the debate to conclude.

The Princess was hell-bent in taking Ceara out, and—initially—Arthur had been amused at her resolve… which was only surpassed by the horse's. The stable boy had not been able to saddle the mare, and he had one of his sleeves bitten off to prove it.

The unruly mare had apparently thrown a serious fit of temper with kicks and bites, and only settled when the Princess walked into the stall to calm her down… certainly against the pleads of everyone, Arthur included…

Amazingly, however, Gwynn was able to saddle the mare. But the problems were far from over and Arthur began to regret his suggestion when, right out of the stables, the uneasy animal backed up, frightened with the boisterous morning movement.

The horse wasn't ready to be ridden inside a town with people around. That much was obvious.

The Princess, equally stubborn it seemed, tried to move Ceara into the streets, only to be almost thrown from her mount as the mare got scared once again by a noisy passing cart.

"I think you will have to give it up, Princess."

Lescaut was already upset. He knew he was able to defend his charge against _everything_, except perhaps… _herself_, as it had been proven enough times already.

And as if things were not difficult enough with Gwynn alone, this Camelot Prince—one way or another—always ended up getting her charge in dangerous situations… Like back in Eleara with the thieves, and now with the _brilliant_ idea of taking that crazy horse for a test ride… through the Citadel no less…

"But I was looking forward to taking her out today…"

"Princess." Arthur intervened in a conciliatory tone. "I should not have made such suggestion last night. It is obvious that you may get hurt if you try to ride her through the streets. She is still quite wild… the people and the movement will upset her. You know that."

Merlin was standing in the background with Helene, observing with amused interest the spectacle. It was quite a sight to watch the strong-minded Princess trying to subdue her strong-minded horse in spite of the pleads of Arthur and Lescaut, who were visibly worried at the ongoing battle of wills between Gwynn and her mare, and trying in vain to convince the lady otherwise.

_Maybe they would have better luck with the horse…_

Chuckling inwardly, Merlin approached the maid—who was impassibly looking at the almost comical situation—and whispered.  
"Is she always like that?"

Helene nodded imperceptibly but couldn't hide a smile… _Oh yes…_  
"Worst…"

Arthur was trying to talk the Princess down from her horse, visibly irritated at being ignored since Gwynn's concentration was only focused Ceara, attempting to calm her. Helene asked in return.  
"Is the Prince always like that?"

Merlin made a face, also grinning amused… _You have no idea…_  
"Worst too."

The situation was becoming downright absurd. By then, it was not about the horse anymore but about who would win the discussion. Thoughtfully, Merlin crossed his arms.  
"They make a good pair."

"Indeed."

Since Arthur couldn't be more enigmatic with regard to the marriage, the warlock thought this was a good opportunity to ask Helene about it… Maybe she'd know something else.  
"Is your Princess still set in not marrying my Prince?"

"Yes. What about your Prince?"

"Don't know. I can't get a straight answer from him lately…"

The maid smiled knowingly and assented. It seemed that together, these two royals could put even the most patient person to a serious test of endurance.  
"I know exactly what you mean…"

This time Merlin let out the laugh he'd been swallowing during the entire time and turned mischievous eyes to the witty maid next to him…  
"Do you think they are aware of how obvious it is?

She laughed softly as well. At least she felt accompanied in her plight with her mistress. Prince Arthur's servant was a delightful young man to be sure.  
"I do not think so…"

The warlock donned another playful face and asked with a conspiratorial tone.  
"Should we tell them?"

The two royals were now heatedly arguing apart from the main group, but still within earshot of their respective servants. The Prince was saying something along the lines that he should have known better than to give her the horse since she insisted in acting like a child, to which the Princess was responding that she did not need for him to tell her what to do.

The maid shook her head slightly and arched an eyebrow.  
"Do you think they'd listen?"

The warlock laughed frankly diverted. This lady was sharp, no doubt about it…  
"Point taken…"

At the end, Gwynn desisted when Arthur argued that even if she was reckless about her own safety, she could end up hurting Ceara by riding her into town. That statement put an end to it—go figure—and the Princess finally acquiesced.

Though Lescaut was still fuming at his mistress stubbornness, he shot a brief look of approval to the Prince… He had to hand it to the royal… the Camelot knight was quickly learning how to deal with the obstinate Princess.

Once the dispute was settled—and a noticeably annoyed Princess changed mounts—Arthur called out Merlin, and Helene also headed back to her mistress. With a wink, the young warlock smiled.  
"I'm glad we could talk."

Helene grinned back.  
"Me too…"

* * *

"You have requested to see me Ruther…"

The Steward turned startled and saw the hooded figure come into the light from a dark corner of his office. His heart felt as if about to jump off his chest.

"I told you many times not to surprise me, Gurgeneu …" he hissed regaining his composure.

A disgusting chuckle reverberated throughout the walls.  
"I thought you were expecting me… I sent you a message…"

Ruther was still reeling from his jolt and very crossed for it.  
"Of course I did. Do you really need to kill my messengers every time I call upon you?"

The unnerving chortle continued, as the assassin walked closer to the window.  
"Your concern for your men is touching… But you know my rules: no loose ends…" He turned towards the Steward. "I would think by now you'd send someone useless to do the deed."

Ruther sat down on his desk, visibly irritated.  
"At this point, I cannot afford to loose anyone, even the useless ones."

Not prone to waste unnecessary time in small talk, Gurgeneu went straight to the point.  
"What is it that you want this time?"

The eyes of the Steward were evasive, as if he was still unsure of what he was about to request.  
"Things have become… abruptly complicated…"

"Indeed… The infamous Arthur Pendragon is your guest after all. I wouldn't have guessed you would be so bold to invite him here…"

Ruther's ire exploded but his voice only rose to a growl.  
"I did not invite him!" He grunted. "I thought his father would send envoys and by now my niece would be on her way to Camelot… But the Prince showed up instead…"

"And now you need to get rid of the little witch for good…" The assassin's tone sounded frightfully pleased.

The silence from the Steward was answer enough and Gurgeneu continued with a derisively cynical inflexion in his voice.

"If you had heeded my advice, you would have gotten rid of the little witch years ago…" He sneered disdainfully. "Your stupid superstitions got you in this situation…"

Ruther looked up, insulted, and jeered through clenched teeth.  
"You shouldn't be so quick to dismiss the Morrigans' curse, Gurgeneu … Particularly when you are reminded of it every time you look yourself in the mirror…"

It was probably a wrong thing to say because the assassin moved menacingly closer.  
"I do not look myself in the mirror, Ruther…"

Lifting his hands, the Steward backed up. His temper had been hard to control ever since the Camelot Heir showed his face in Leoness, but he still knew better than to anger the assassin when they were alone. Gurgeneu knew that too and a malicious smile twisted his disfigured jaw.

"So, you want the Princess to disappear?"

"Yes. But it can't be done in Leoness' lands. I am risking already too much with this decision… These lands are protected by the Morrigans, whether you want to believe it or not." Ruther marked his next words. "You have to take her out of the Kingdom… You didn't listen to my advice the last time and not only she survived… but look where it's gotten us…"

"All right… outside Leoness' borders it will be… What about the Prince?"

"What about him?"

"Cenred will pay handsomely for his head… And I intend to collect that as well…"

The steward scoffed, shrugging his shoulders.  
"It's your life you endanger against him… As long as it's out of my territories, you can do with the boy whatever you want…"

"Not in _your_ territories again…" The assassin mocked. "What is it with you and geography anyway…"

Ruther did not appreciate the sarcastic comment.  
"I don't expect you to understand my politics, Gurgeneu … I have survived in this position by my ability to act subtly. I don't care for confrontations in which I might loose…" His previously affronted inflection changed to a markedly disdainful one for his last statement. "As a matter of fact, my way of doing business has proven more than profitable to you, so perhaps you shouldn't object to it after all."

"That is true… And this one will cost you substantially more than the others, as I am sure you understand."

"Of course I know… Your price will be met…"

"How I am going to make sure that the Royal Guard will not chase me down?"

The Steward rose from his chair with an arrogant smile. Gurgeneu thought him an idiot and he did not mind it as long as the assassin held his end of the deals, which was always the case. But he was not an idiot…  
"I sent Alric and his battalions away… You should surprise my niece tonight. No one will be the wiser until the morning. Search parties will be sent, but you'll probably be out of Leoness by then. After that, it's up to you…"

"And how am I going to surprise the Princess with the Camelot Prince and his men inside the palace?"

"Do not worry about that. You'll be… invisible."

* * *

The house of healing was far more than Arthur had been expecting… It was not only a place for treatment of illnesses and injuries, but is also worked as an orphanage and as a safe haven for the elderly. Somehow the Prince knew that this was a private project of the Princess—there was no way this could have been conceived by Ruther—and understood her adamant insistence the previous night.

Helene and the servants were distributing food and clothes, while Gwynn conversed with the staff, asking for needs and taking requests. It was a stark contrast to see her so… pragmatic in her royal role after the amusing display of the spoiled, mulish girl she'd put on early with her horse.

The Prince smiled inwardly. She was in fact both.  
_And then some_…  
He could also clearly see how much these people loved their Princess and the already familiar warmth—which inexorably surfaced when Gwynn was concerned—hit his chest again. She would be a magnificent queen…

_If only…_

It was better to put his feelings on hold for now.  
He just wanted… Rather _needed_—he corrected himself—to make sure she was safe and protected, and after last night's revelations, he was sure it was _not_ the case.

Before his thoughts turned too dark, Gwynn walked to where he was standing with Merlin and Lescaut with a big smile. It was also obvious how much she enjoyed being there… with her people.

"Prince Arthur… Come with me… We are to visit the orphanage now. You'll enjoy it." And without further ado, she grabbed his hand and hauled him with her.

Arthur had definitely not been prepared for that and only attempted a despairing look at the other two men. Lescaut didn't move a muscle—though his eyes shone with mocking hilarity—and Merlin only shrugged his shoulders… The Prince was on his own…

The truth of the matter was that Arthur's experience with children was non-existent… The closest he'd been to youngsters were the adolescent knight candidates he received sometimes in Camelot… But he didn't even relate well with_ them_, always assigning the young crowd to other commanders… And all that despite the fact that those recruits could at least dress and feed themselves, as it were.

Being surrounded by these little creatures that looked at him some with curiosity and some others with fearful reservation, was a completely novel occurrence for him. And he discovered he felt… intimidated.

The thought almost made him laugh out loud. He had faced all sorts of perils… fierce warriors and mystical creatures alike… Yet he didn't recall having been so… uneasy as he was feeling in front of so many curious little eyes.

It seemed that the Princess would not come to his aid either as she was engrossed cradling a baby in her arms. The sight of Gwynn sweetly singing to the baby melted something inside Arthur… But the worst came when her eyes met his with the same loving… womanly smile lighting up her face…

Whatever had melted inside of him became a torrent that flooded his veins, almost asphyxiating him. All of the sudden, he just wanted to run out of there…

"Are you a Prince?" a little voice asked, mercifully bringing him out of his shock, and Arthur looked around trying to find the source. A pull on his robe told him to look down and his eyes met a set of large, dark ones, looking at him inquisitively.

"Pardon me?"

"I asked you…" The little girl repeated, "If you are a real Prince?"

Arthur knelt in front of her, grinning. She was tiny and so beautiful… with big brown eyes that were half of her adorable face—or so he thought—and her curly blonde hair was everywhere…

He tried his most charming smile.  
"Why do you ask, my lady? Are you a Princess?"

Her giggles struck something on his heart, which he didn't even know he had in there.  
"No, silly… I am Marlinka…"

"Hello Marlinka. I am Arthur…"

"Arthur…" She put her hands on her tiny waist, in an overly adult fashion that was simply endearing. "Are you a Prince or not?"

"I am, my lady." He answered laughing. "Why is it that you ask?"

"Are you going to marry our Princess?"

_Wow…_ It seemed that even in small sizes, women had a knack for asking complicated questions.

How to answer that?  
_Let's see_…  
He was bigger…_ and_ a Crown Prince, he should be able to handle it…  
"I do not know, Marlinka… Do you want me to marry the Princess?"

The little girl shook her head decisively in a whirlwind of golden curls.  
"No."

Arthur arched his eyebrows… No? Why would she say that?  
Without even noticing, he voiced his surprise.  
"Why not Marlinka?

"Lilith says that when our Princess marries a Prince she will not come here anymore."

Her pout was tearing apart his insides and yet Arthur felt pathetically selfish at the relief that her innocent answer brought him.

_It was only that…  
_"I see… That's all right." He pretended to think for a moment. "I'll make you a deal… If I marry the Princess, she will keep visiting you for as long as you want. How about it?"

That was exactly what Marlinka evidently wanted to hear, because she rounded the Prince's neck with her minuscule arms and kissed him loudly.

"Marlinka…" Gwynn's voice brought the girl and the Prince out of their fleeting romance. "Are you smothering Prince Arthur?"

"No my lady. He promised me that when he marries you, you will still come to visit me." She gave the Prince an ample, toothless smile. "He is nice. You can marry him."

Four royal eyebrows shot up in unison at the unexpected approval and the Princess asked amidst a barely contained giggle.  
"Can I then?"

"Yes. Do you have my sweet?"

"Here… Lilith needs you now. Go and be a good girl, promise?"

"Promise. Good bye."

Gwynn bent to receive another loud kiss from Marlinka, and the girl went off skipping… or rather trying to.

"I see that you are already working your charm with the ladies your highness." Gwynn shook her head in jokingly admonition. "I suppose some habits die hard…"

In an attempt to hide the blush he knew it was coming, the Prince laughed looking at the retreating tiny figure of the girl. "She is quite a character."

"Yes she is…"Gwynn's gaze also turned to Marlinka. "Her village was attacked last winter by some barbarians from the north… Her mother saved her and her brother, but died from her injuries shortly after reaching the Citadel. Her baby brother died not long afterwards… She is completely alone…"

The sadness in her eyes urged Arthur to try and change topics a bit. Besides, he was genuinely curious.  
"Do you know the story of all these children?"

Smiling once again the Princess nodded, looking back at him.  
"All of them…" Then she remembered. "By the way, you should never promise a child something you are not sure you would be able to deliver. They do not always forget…"

Although her tone was soft and she was still smiling, Arthur felt… scolded… All the same, she was right.  
"I am sorry… You are right, of course. I just didn't think about it…"

"I know… That's why I invited you here… I figure that with your duties you probably do not have much time to see up close the likes of the people you rule in Camelot… Kids are kids everywhere, and they are the future subjects of their Kingdom, no matter which Kingdom it is…" The Princess smiled again while they were making their way out. "And do not worry about Marlinka… She is only four years old and thankfully has a blissful capacity to forget…"

Arthur decided he would have to think about the real implications of what Gwynn just said. She was right again… He'd never had enough time to spend with his people… much less his '_future subjects'_.

Evidently, there were many things he'd have to do and change upon his return to Camelot… Right now, however, he just wanted to straighten something up. He gently stopped the Princess grabbing her hand.

"In any case… If I were to marry you, I would uphold my word to her, Princess."

The green eyes were unreadable, and right when he thought there was a hint of regret in them, she smiled seemingly cheerful.  
"I know you would… But we do not have to worry about it, do we?"

"No, we do not."

The Prince felt something odd… Disappointment was part of it, although not all. On a rational level, he understood that Gwynn's confession had lifted a heavy weight from her heart. On a more personal level, he was irked to no end that she seemed so relieved for not marrying him…

He chastised himself for his last thought… He had said to her that they were still friends and now was bothered because she was actually treating him like one.

As opposed as the rocky start of the day, the way back to the castle was a quite animated trip since Gwynn and Arthur were mercilessly teasing each other. The Princess was making fun of the mighty warrior scared of little kids… and in turn Arthur teased her about the poor example her morning tantrum would have been for those children she cared so much about.

As much as the Prince was enjoying the newly found comfort zone in his relationship with Gwynn, he had begun to fear that this… friendship status could be harder to manage than he had first thought.

Without the hindering of her secret, the Princess was back to being the delightfully spirited lady he had met in Eleara… And just like then, Arthur was finding very difficult to resist her charm…

He wondered how far the friend zone could be extended.  
_Could a friend kiss the other friend senseless? _

Meanwhile, Merlin and Helene were riding in the back utterly entertained and exchanging knowing looks. Someone should probably knock some sense into these royals…

* * *

After supper…

Gwynn was unbraiding her hair, smiling satisfied… The visit to the healing houses always lifted her spirits. Despite the suffering of the ill and injured, she felt the love of her people and their gratitude, and her visits were always welcomed. Particularly in the orphanage.

The day had been wonderful even if she had not been able to take her beautiful horse out. She had conceded more out of fear of hurting Ceara than of herself…

She smiled again. Arthur had known exactly which buttons to push for her to desist… Apparently, he was getting to know her better than she had expected…

Trying to prevent her thoughts from wandering to the forbidden territory of her feelings towards the Prince, her attention turned back to Ceara.

That willful mare would need some serious work… The horse needed to be taught that biting the stable boys was out of the question and trained to behave with other horses and other people …

The memory of the pony her brother had given her for her fifth birthday brought another smile to her lips… That stubborn little horse had also been a handful at first… And not even she had been spared from his unpredictable moods…

She looked at the fading marks on her right hand… The pony had bitten her there… Of course, she had been smothering him with caresses apparently beyond the animal's tolerance threshold…

The bite hadn't been harsh; more like a warning of a patience growing thin… But enough to break her infantile skin and make her bleed a bit.

Aylwin had been so upset he had wanted to get rid of the horse… But she had opposed. She had promised her brother to be patient with the pony and teach him how to behave… and she had delivered…

It was the first horse she'd tamed and she'd gotten methodically better at it… Ceara would be no different…

Lost in her thoughts, she heard a noise coming from the back of the antechamber.

"Helene, is that you?"

Out of nowhere three hooded figures appeared in the mirror behind her. The Princess reacted immediately and reached for her always-at-hand stiletto from the table, but it was too late.

Two of the men grabbed her securely and covered her mouth before she could even think of crying for help. She fought fiercely but they were obviously professionals and she was gagged and her hands tied in less than a minute.

Only then the third man closed the distance to where she was being held and took off his hood. A horribly burnt and disfigured face appeared; half of it was literally gone, including his hair and one ear… The rest was barely distinguishable as human…

His deformed lips curved in a sickening evil smirk…  
"Hello, little witch… Remember me?"

Gwynn's eyes widened in horror and disgust, her scream muted by the gag, and then everything went black.

* * *

Sorry for the cliffhanger... Next chapter should be up soon :-)


	30. Chapter 30: Waiting for a miracle

SAME DISCLAIMER AS IN CHAPTER 1

It has come to my attention that during all this time (30 chapters no less) I have failed to appropriately thank those of you who have marked this story as favorite and/or signed for story's alert.  
Thus, thank you all so much. And if it's not too much to ask, I would also like to hear/read your opinion.

As per the loyal reviewers who always take the time to drop a word after every chapter: thank you all once again :-) :-)

This chapter had to be split in two due to its length. Here it is the first part, the next should be up shortly.

I hope everyone enjoys it :-)

* * *

_**Chapter 30: Waiting for a miracle**_

Helene said good night to Sir Lescaut but instead of going to her quarters directly, she headed back to the royal chamber. It didn't matter that the Princess had already dismissed her for the night. She needed to have a word with her mistress…Right now.

Not too long ago, Sir Lescaut had broken his engagement with a lady of the court. Initially, the couple had seemed like a very good match. Apparently, however, Lady Gundred later found her fiancé's devotion for the Princess very appropriate for a royal guard but not a desirable quality for a husband and had called off the engagement.

Gwynn had been devastated as she considered Lescaut like her own brother. After the death of her family, they had grown up together under the careful watch of Sir Alric until Lescaut had been of age to officially become the personal protector of the Heiress of Leoness' throne.

Between tears, the Princess had told Helene that it had not been the first time Lescaut's heart had been broken because of her… Because of his commitment to her safety. And she feared that by being so dedicated to her services, Lescaut was sacrificing his chances of having a family and personal happiness…

Trying to console her mistress, the lady in waiting had declared that it would certainly not be the case, and that surely there would be someone who would appreciate Lescaut's loyalty rather than find it an obstacle. In fact, Helene had been thinking of herself when saying those words. She had always found the tall and handsome guard very attractive, with his serious… almost dark demeanor and his unbending sense of duty.

The problem was that—in what the maid had come to regard as a serious lap of judgment from her part—she had confided in Gwynn that she thought the young knight was a very… interesting man. To her dismay, the Princess had found the situation absolutely splendid and immediately had begun plotting to get them together or alone every opportunity she had, despite Helene's complaints.

Worst of all—and according to the lady in waiting's opinion—the matter was a lost cause anyway since Lescaut did not seem to have any interest in her whatsoever. And although Gwynn's machinations had always been very subtle, they ended up annoying the maid. Lately, and with her own fancying of Prince Arthur, it seemed to Helene that Gwynn's romantic tendencies had gotten out of hands.

Regardless, Lescaut continued to be silent and awkward around Helene. Always chivalrous, always attentive… but always detached all the same. And she feared the knight would eventually put two and two together and discovered the Princess' plotting… The thought alone was far more embarrassing than the maid could stand.

_Gwynn would have to listen to me tonight… This cannot continue._

She entered the royal antechamber just in time to see two hooded men scurrying through… the wall. Or rather, what seemed to be a door to a secret passage camouflaged behind a heavy tapestry.

The surprise was so big that her brain didn't have time to process the implications of the scene and she only gasped in shock. But it was enough for the men to hear her.

Quick as lighting, the last man pulled a dagger and though Helene tried to dodge it out of pure survival instinct, it found its blank. A cry of pain echoed in the room and throughout the empty corridors.

* * *

Arthur was coming back to his chambers from the quarters of the Royal Guard were Sir Alric had housed Leon and his other knights. Seeing as he hadn't been able to talk to his men ever since his conversation with Alric and the dinner with Ruther, he had wanted to make them aware of the precarious situation surrounding the Princess' safety.

His orders had been clear: they were not to trust the Steward's guards and should keep their eyes and ears wide open to anything and anyone strange around the palace and the Citadel. Furthermore—and if came to it—when in doubt they were to attack first and ask questions later… The state of affairs was delicate enough to warrant such command.

The Prince stopped in his tracks. Something was amiss.

It took him only a second to realize what it was. The corridors were deserted. No guards, royal or otherwise were anywhere to be seen. Someone had removed surveillance from the private quarters' area on purpose and his heart began to speed up.

_Gwynn…_

Just at that moment, a scream coming from the general direction of the Princess' quarters reached his ears. His heart stopped for a second, frozen in fear, to resume beating wildly as he sprinted towards her room.

The door was open and Helene was lying on the floor, stabbed and barely alive. There was no sign of the Princess… He kneeled before the maid's body to assess the damage, fearing the worst.

A loud sigh of relief came out of his lungs when, on a closer look, he noticed that the dagger had missed her heart by scarce inches and was instead incrusted in her shoulder. She would live… However, he needed to get the blade out to dress the wound and stop the bleeding.

"Helene… Listen to me…" He saw her meager consciousness quickly fading away. "Do not close your eyes, my lady… I will pull the dagger now… It will hurt but you will be all right…"

Her eyes were glazed, almost lifeless, and Arthur was not sure she had understood. In any case, he needed to act fast.

In one swift motion he pulled the dagger from her. Another cry of pain sounded in the room and, more awake now, Helene eyes pooled with tears.

The Prince grabbed a nearby… something—a piece of clothing, who cared—and put a firm compress on her shoulder to stop the bleeding. She was crying now, still in shock.

Before Arthur could ask for Gwynn, Lescaut showed up at the door, breathless from his own run.

"Helene!"

There was a clear desperation in the way the guard yelled her name as he rushed to kneel next to her. Arthur looked at him slightly surprised. Lescaut had never showed any emotions until that moment. Nonetheless the Prince did not have time to dwell on it, as his greatest concern was to learn the whereabouts of the Princess.

"She is all right, Lescaut. The dagger missed her heart. It's a deep wound but it should heal with no problem…" He turned his eyes from the knight's pale and panicked face to the maid again. "Helene… where is Gwynn…"

Helene was sobbing in pain, shock and fear… She chocked on her tears and speaking became very difficult, but she pushed through it. With failing breath she whispered

"Someone took her… A secret… passage…" She chocked again. "Behind…" Her shaky right hand pointed towards the tapestry… and she finally fainted.

Arthur's blood froze in his veins…  
It had happened after all… Gwynn had been kidnapped… or worst.  
His brain began to work in overdrive to plan his immediate actions.

"Lescaut… take Helene to the royal physician. I'll…"

For the first time since he'd met the young guard, the Prince noticed that Lescaut was not listening and remained completely in shock looking at the broken body of the lady. It was more than obvious that the soldier had been shaken to his core. Although vaguely reckoning that the knight evidently had feelings for the maid and was trying to get a grip on the situation, Arthur had bigger worries at the moment.

He put a hand on Lescaut's shoulder, effectively bringing the guard out of his trance.  
"She'll be all right… We've found her in time… But we must hurry."

The soldier's eyes came to life again and turned apologetic for a second, but a forced smile from the Prince told him to let it go and keep moving. Effortlessly, he lifted Helene's limp body, tenderly covering her with the throw the Prince handed him.

Arthur turned towards the wall. He had to find a way to open the door, and quickly…

_Where the hell was Merlin when he needed him?_

As in invoked by magic, the warlock appeared at the door with a worried expression. He had walked out of their quarters—tired of waiting for his master and bored out of his wits—and had run into a panicked Lescaut carrying the unconscious, bloody body of Helene…

"Arthur…"

"Merlin! They've taken Gwynn… There is a door here… Help me open it!"

The warlock reacted immediately without uttering a word. He knew that questioning Arthur at this time for details would only unleash the ire of his master—justifiably, given the circumstances—and would not bring more information anyway. They pushed and look for a key or a knob… a way to open the door, any way…

Time was passing and with each minute, the Prince was becoming more frantic…

Lescaut appeared again and the elusive door still hadn't been opened.  
"We should just ride out" He suggested.

"To WHERE?" Arthur roared. "If there are secret passages beneath the castle, they could have taken her anywhere! We would have to wait until morning to find a trail and they will be long gone by then! Opening this damned door is our only hope!"

The assessment of the Prince was clearly accurate and both guard and warlock understood it so. Even with the three of them searching for the evasive doorknob they were making no progress and the anxiety was mounting by the second.

Merlin made a decision. His secret be damned…  
If he didn't act the Princess could be lost forever… The thought alone of what _that_ could do to Arthur—not to mention the potentially disastrous outcome of an unfulfilled prophecy—was enough to fuel his resolve.

He took some steps back pretending to investigate the corbels on the other side of some shelves, and his eyes turned gold.

"_Dangos kasyra skryte". _He whispered… and the wall behind the tapestry opened silently.

Arthur turned vividly on his heels.  
"Which one of you did it…"

Lescaut signaled a candleholder in the wall he'd been trying, and Merlin shrugged his shoulders signaling one of the corbels of the shelf. It could have been either, really…

Without time to experiment which one had been the lucky one, Arthur moved into the passage.

* * *

Gwynn woke up from the brief knockout that the blow on her head had caused, but still everything was black and she realized the there was a hood over her head. Her temples were throbbing but she disregarded it trying to regain her bearings.

Someone was carrying her over a shoulder and although her feet were untied, they were securely grabbed by her captor. She didn't move. It was better to let them think she was still unconscious. Her hands were viciously tied up and there were at least three of them. This was no time for heroic deeds or hysterical outbursts.

They were moving fast and the shoulder of her hauler bumping on her stomach was painful and made breathing quite difficult. She tried to subdue the ache and discomfort and pay attention to the surroundings.

The air smelled rancid… Although, it could have been the hood covering her head as well… Gwynn forced herself to focus. It was not the cloth. They were in some sort of cave…

_Cave? Where?_  
_Had she been out for that long? Unless… _

She remembered hearing stories of a secret web of passages underneath the castle, but she had never dared to ask her uncle… If such passageways existed, then that would explain how these thugs got into her room undetected.

Which meant that someone from _inside_ the castle had showed them the way.  
_Ruther…_

Her eyes prickled with tears and she closed them forcefully to prevent the watery drops from falling.  
Her uncle had finally done it…

She had indeed recognized the disfigured man… He had been part of the attack on her family.  
He had been the one chasing after her, and she vividly remembered seeing him burning when everything had begun to catch fire… Evidently, he had survived—visibly not unscathed—and now wanted revenge.

What was more, his entrance through the secret passages left no doubt about his alliance with the Steward… The inescapable conclusion hit her harder than anything else had tonight: her suspicions had been correct and Ruther had been the one who plotted the annihilation of her family…  
He just hadn't expected for her to survive.

Amidst the physical pain and the emotional overload, the Princess thought of giving up…  
Maybe death could be liberating after all… She would be with her dear family and free of fear at last…

But it was only a moment…

Deep from within herself the love for her people came to her rescue and the recent memory of adorable Marlinka and the other children fired her spirit…  
She would _not_ leave them to Ruther's hands without a fight.

Reinforcing her determination, Ashraf's teachings came crushing down on her: "_The fear of death is more to be dreaded than death itself._"

Suddenly the air became clear again and the unmistakable salty smell of the ocean reached her nostrils. They were out. The passages must have an exit near the cliffs around the Citadel. At last, someone spoke, whom she recognized as the disfigured man.

"Throw her in the wagon. And whatever you do, do not take her hood off… Let's go."

She landed heavily on the floor of a cart, swallowing a whimper. As long as they thought she was unconscious, she would have time to plan something… _if_ there was something to plan.

* * *

After following the path of the kidnappers through the maze of tunnels and hidden passages, the three men discovered the exit of the tunnel and the route the thugs had taken. There were marks of a cart or a wagon, thus by riding alone they might be able to gain on the villains.  
Hopefully…

They had hurried back to get their horses, avoiding as much as possible the few guards from the Steward's forces that could still be seen around. No one had spoken more than necessary as the three shared the same anxiety. Words were redundant at the moment.

The trail took them along the cliffs through the outskirts of the citadel. After that, the road almost disappeared into a pathway, which was good as the wagon would likely have to slow down to negotiate the grass that had grown in the old ruts.

The drawback was, however, that the tracks were also harder to follow there… The Prince and his companions slowed down too, trying to decide which way to go.

Lescaut saw it first. There was something on a bush… Something white reflecting the bright moonlight.  
"Your Highness… I think it's this way…"

Arthur kept spinning his horse looking for clear clues.  
"You THINK Lescaut!" was the caustic roar. "I need better than that!"

The guard paid no heed to the sarcasm. He understood the Prince's anxiety as the same feeling was brewing inside him. If something were to happen to his Princess…

"You should take a look at this, Sire." He insisted.

Arthur grabbed whatever the guard was handing. It was a piece of fabric and it was clean, indicating that it hadn't been outside for too long. Looking more closely, he noticed that the ripping seemed to have been done in purpose rather than torn by accident.

The Prince held his breath…  
_Could it be...?_

He smelled the piece and a shadow of smile crept up his face. Although very faint, he could still recognize the unmistakable jasmine perfume…

"She's telling us the way!" He whispered while his heart was threatening to jump out of his chest.

_She was well so far… and she hadn't surrendered… _

Kicking his horse into another frantic gallop, he yelled back.  
"Merlin, Lescaut… Hurry up! We must find them before they notice what she is doing!"

"_Or she rips off all her clothing!"_

The muttered words of Lescaut escaped the Prince but not Merlin, who couldn't hide his grin. The knight surely knew his Princess. Furthermore, it would seem that Gwynn—hopefully _his _Princess some day as well—was exactly what Arthur needed.

They kept finding pieces of her underskirts as they continued their hunt. Arthur mentioned something about the pieces being evenly spaced and that therefore she was very much aware of the distances and time that had passed.

Without being totally explicit, the Prince had also meant that she was conscious and in control. The other two riders understood that, and a renewed hope made them speed up the march even further.

After a while and from the top of a hill, they finally spotted a group of riders and a wagon in front of them. It seemed that the pathway had taken the captors in a sharp turn towards the bottom of the hill, and they were headed once again towards the beach.

The rescue party stopped momentarily and moved back inside the forest so they would not be seen. Lescaut abruptly understood the plan.

"They are taking her out of Leoness by the quickest route…"

Arthur had surmised as much… It made sense, somehow. If Ruther were afraid of being cursed, it would be foreseeable that he would want the deed to be executed outside his realm… just in case.

It was stupid in essence, but it was clearly the desperate measure of a desperate usurper. Arthur's chess contracted with guilt.

It had been his fault, undoubtedly. He had felt cocky during dinner and had enjoyed cornering the Steward. However, his own arrogance had made him underestimate the degree of viciousness that Ruther was capable of. And Gwynn was paying for it…

Rage surged through him like a tidal wave. He would kill those captors with his bear hands if needed. And next, he would kill the Steward.

With the strategic plan in place, now he needed to concentrate on the tactics of how to implement—at least—the first part of it. He turned towards Lescaut.

"How many did you count?"

"Seven, Sire."

"Yes, that's what I thought."

"What are we going to do?" Merlin whispered thinking that Arthur's expression was way too calm given the circumstances… and the fact that 'painful murder' seemed to be written all over the royal eyes…

The Prince mind was working fast.  
"We need an ambush, so we must split."

Lescaut nodded but nonetheless voiced what everyone else was thinking.  
"Yes but… while fighting the riders, there is the risk of the wagon getting away…"

A quite peculiar… vicious smirk curved Arthur's lips.  
"I know. But that's the only way. I'll take the three riders from the left. You take care of the other three. Merlin, you'll have to handle the last one."

The warlock nodded but the Prince wasn't done yet.  
"As per the wagon… We'll take our chances and hope for... a miracle."

At his last words, the Prince briefly glanced at his servant and Merlin's heart skipped a bit.

What was that?  
Was Arthur implying something…?  
Of course not! The Prince couldn't know, could he?

Though confused by his master's words, this was obviously not the time for the warlock to ponder about the connotations; Lescaut and Arthur were getting ready to attack.

As they were ridding downhill cutting through the forest to intercept the kidnappers an idea came to Merlin.

_Maybe a wheel of the cart could break down…? _

After all, there were almost no ruts on the pathway and the heavy cart, powered by four horses, was speeding beyond the resistance of the wheels. The warlock smiled.

Perhaps he could give Arthur his "miracle" after all…


	31. Chapter 31: Avenged

SAME DISCLAIMER AS IN CHAPTER 1

Thank you everyone who has reviewed my story.  
I always make a point to answer the reviews personally, so if by any chance I have failed to respond to any of you, please forgive me and let me know.

The rescuing continue... and it's a very long chapter (the longest yet as per the word count at least)

I hope you like it. I certainly had lots of fun writing it!

* * *

_**Chapter 31: Avenged**_

As soon as the wagon started moving and gaining speed, Gwynn began to bump against the floor and roll around like a sack of potatoes. Even with her hands tied up front, it was nearly impossible to grab onto something for support. Ultimately, the movements pushed her to one of the back corners where she found some form of equilibrium and came at last to a resting position.

There was not a single part of her body that wasn't sore at this point, and yet the Princess felt absurdly pleased to have reached this convenient spot inconspicuously and by the grace of gravity. In this way, she could continue to pretend unconsciousness without anyone being the wiser, and move onto her recently conceived plan.

Slowly, she partially removed the hood from her face, being careful to leave most of it on. Her eyes had been in the dark for so long that had not problem adapting almost immediately to the moonlight. There were no riders in the back of the cart, thankfully, and they all appeared—according to the noise of the hooves—to be riding towards the front. Even better.

Gwynn removed her gag as well. Being able to scream for help could eventually become handy, but the main purpose was to use her teeth to soften the ties on her wrist. Her hands were securely bound and she knew she was not going to be able to untie herself. Nonetheless, if she could at least get some movement, it would certainly help her next task.

Once her hands achieved a bit more mobility, she began to gradually bundle her dress until she found her underskirt. Firmly grabbing the border of the lighter fabric, she ripped off a small piece and let it fly out of the car, then waited holding her breath.

After a couple of minutes, nothing happened and the Princess sighed in relief. Her captors had not noticed anything.

Remembering a trick her brother had taught her when they were kids—counting the riding distance by the metrics of a children's poem—she decided to pace the marks. And so the pieces of her underskirt continued flying undetected onto the bushes every third of mile or so… She was going to need them to go back—if she was able to escape, of course—or her rescue party could use them to find her.

She was sure that Arthur and Lescaut would come to her aid once they discovered she was missing… Unfortunately, she did not have any hopes for that to occur until the next morning anyway. The timing of these thugs had been impeccable.

Out of the blue, a loud thud shook the cart and she was thrown to the other side, landing heavily on her arm. Before she could recover, the wagon tilted again and she rolled all the way back to the end corner.

* * *

Merlin slowed down his horse a little to allow the other two riders to take the lead and moved further to the right to stay out of the peripheral vision of Arthur and Lescaut. His eyes turned gold yet again.

"_Gadewch rato vymaniť_"

Suddenly, one of the back wheels of the cart broke free and rolled down the hill. The wagon tilted to one side, then to the other and after bumping around for some distance, came to a halt once the driver—Merlin's target—finally controlled the horses.

The other six riders took longer to stop amidst the momentary confusion and yells from the wagon's master.

Lescaut looked dumbfounded at the unexpected struck of luck…  
"What the hell was that?"

Before Merlin could state the obvious, the Prince beat him to it.  
"_That_ was the miracle we needed."

Briefly glancing at the knight first, Arthur's gaze stayed on Merlin's a bit longer and the strange look in his master's face put the warlock on guard.  
_Had he pushed his luck too far and Arthur had discovered…?_

He didn't have time to even worry about it since less than a second later the Prince kicked his horse, sword in hand, and charged down the hill. Lescaut and Merlin followed suit.

With the advantage of the surprise, the fight was short and swift. Although outnumbered three to one, the kidnappers were no match for Arthur and Lescaut.

Merlin, meanwhile, was left to deal with the bulky wagon driver and after several failed blows intended to bring down the giant man, the wizard was seriously considering using magic once again. He knew he had been lucky twice already in the course of few hours and had to wonder if his fortunate strike of not being discovered would indeed continue. Perhaps he should try and best his opponent without magic for a change.

A quick glance to the rest of the fight, however, made him decide for his more trusted weapon. On the other front Lescaut was still fighting one sturdy thug while Arthur was holding his ground against two. Although neither of his companions appeared to be in a dire situation, they could probably use some help.

It took only a movement of the wizard's hand for a heavy log to magically fly through the air knocking the lights out of the thug. Smiling smugly, the young warlock grabbed the cage's keys from the bulky man's body.

By the time Merlin finished with the wagon's driver, the Leoness' knight had already defeated his opponent but was lying on the ground, wounded on his leg. Arthur had also dispatched one of the remaining two foes and was down to one, and by the looks of it, the thug wouldn't last much longer either.

Unexpectedly then, one of the bandits on the floor—barely, but still alive—caught Arthur's foot and tripped him. The Prince fell on the ground and his adversary took advantage of it to disarm him, kicking his sword away. With the tip of his own blade on the royal neck, the man under the hood spoke.

"You are not from Leoness." It was a statement, not a question.

"I am the Prince Camelot." Arthur answered between teeth.

An evil chuckle echoed in the silence of the night.  
"Well, well… If it isn't the infamous Arthur." The sword got closer to his throat. "I think I _will_ collect Cenred's moneys too after all… Your head has a hefty prize… _Prince._" He finished sarcastically accentuating the nobility title.

The greed might have momentarily dulled Gurgeneu's cold-blooded and pragmatic murdering habits and he should have remembered the Prince's skills. When he did, it was too late.

In an extremely swift movement, Arthur threw a fist of dirt in the man's face and using the distraction rolled over out of Gurgeneu's sword range. In another instant, the blade of the Camelot Prince found its mark on the hooded man's chest.

"Think again..."

With no desire to waste any more time, Arthur got up and ran to the cart crossing Merlin's path who was rushing towards him to help. The Prince grabbed the keys from his servant's hands and kept moving towards the wagon.

"Check on Lescaut!"

In a middle of his haste to get to the Princess, Arthur's heart was beating wildly in expectation of what he'd found and was hoping with all his might that she'd be all right.

As soon as he opened the wagon's door, and before he could make out where she was in the darkness of the cart, something hit him on his chest very hard and he stumbled back falling heavily on the floor and hitting his head on the rocky ground.

* * *

From the moment Gwynn realized that the cart had broken and that they had come to a stop, everything happened too fast. She could hear the sound of the swords and muffled groans of pain from the nearby fight but could not distinguish who the assailants were or how many there were.

In any case, she was not about to wait and see what developed. This would probably be her only chance to get away from her captors, and she surely wasn't going to let it pass without trying.

When someone opened the wagon door, she didn't hesitate and kicked the man on his chest with all her strength. Jumping out, she ran towards the forest as fast as her legs would take her.

From the distance, Merlin was taken completely aback. His Prince was on the floor, apparently hurt by the same damsel in distress they were supposed to be rescuing…

What should he do?  
Should he run after her or should he assist Arthur?  
A groan from his master made him choose the latter option and the warlock ran to kneel next to the scarcely conscious Prince, who had begun to come back.

Arthur's head was throbbing quite badly after hitting it hard against a rock, but his urgency to see Gwynn to safety quickly overcame his pain. His eyes tried to focus and he looked around, anxiously grabbing Merlin's collar when he couldn't find her.

"Where is she!"

"She ran away, Sire… Towards the forest." Merlin was trying to regain his breath.

"Go after her, Merlin… And for heaven's sake, bring her back safe and sound!"  
It could have been an order, but it sounded more like a desperate plea.

The bright moonlight bathing the forest was painting the ground with strange figures of shadow that seemed to be alive and moving in an esoteric dance as a soft wind swayed the treetops. Gwynn was as scared as she had ever been, but kept pushing forward desperately searching for the pieces of fabric she had left behind. There was none in sight. She kept running some more.

_Where were they? _

They should have been in the bushes, she was sure of it… And they were white, so they were supposed to reflect the moonlight! However, they seemed to have magically disappeared.

While still looking frantically around, the sound of hurrying footsteps reached her ears. Someone was running closely behind her… She had to get away!

"_Forget the marks! Run… Just run!"_

Merlin finally saw her ahead of him and breathed a little easier. At least she was in sight and he would outrun her sooner or later.

Or would him? As seconds passed, he didn't seem to be gaining much terrain…

_Damn she could run fast!  
One would think that those female attires should be harder to manage..._

But not for this lady it seemed. In any case, he had to stop her before she got further away.

"Princess!" He called forcefully. "Princess, please stop!"

Gwynn didn't answer nor stop. If they were thinking she would actually heed the call, they'd better think again. They would have to catch her and …

Then it happened. An aerial root caught her right foot and Merlin saw with horror as her body went flying forward.

"Gwynn!"

In a second he was at her side, his heart pounding on his throat. Was she injured?  
Her moan told him she was awake at least, and he gently turned her over to assess the harm.

The heavy landing had made Gwynn gasped for air, but her brain reacted immediately. No matter how much it hurt, they were not going to take her back that easily.

She pushed him as hard as she could.  
"Get away from me! Get away!"

"Princess… It's me…Merlin…" The hopelessness of her eyes was piercing his heart and he kept repeating those words in hope that she would calm and listen.

The violent adrenaline rush that had helped her escape was still flowing through her body and it took a moment for Gwynn to recognize him. When she finally did, she slowly stopped her fight and repeated softly.

"Merlin…" And then broke down in frenetic sobs.

Merlin swallowed hard… Her agitated state was more than what he was able to bear. Seeing the usually collected—and most times spirited—Princess in this shattered state was something he had not been prepared for.

He was glad Arthur wasn't there… Whoever had been responsible for this would certainly have already sealed their faith as far as his master was concerned. The Prince would be merciless, that much he knew. Yet the warlock feared that witnessing the true extent of the damage could very well push Arthur further into a vengeful spree…

Resting her head on his chest, he embraced her ever so daintily.  
"It's all right my lady … You are safe now… Please, calm down…"

In the end, Gwynn came back to her senses and lifted her head, recomposing herself and even a little embarrassed by her emotional outburst. But the clear eyes of Merlin were filled with sympathy and understanding and she finally smiled with all the gratitude in the world.

"Thank you…"

A second later, and as reality started to re-emerge, she frowned confused.  
"What are you doing here?"

The warlock made a face…between amused and apologetic and shrugged his shoulders.  
"We… came to rescue you…"

The Princess' frown deepened as she looked around at the deserted forest.  
"_We_?"

"Yes… you see… the Prince and Lescaut are back where the wagon is. The Prince asked me to look for you…" He didn't know how to say it delicately, so he blurted out the truth. "After you kicked him on the chest he fell on the ground and had to send me instead…"

Her alarmed face told the warlock he should probably work on his subtlety skills when breaking unpleasant news.  
"Goodness Merlin! What I have done! I didn't know it was he… I…"

She was becoming uneasy again and he had to hold her by her arms once more.  
"My lady… Princess! He is well. It wasn't that bad …"

"Please, Merlin… Take me to him…"  
It was not just what she said, but _the way_ she said it that proved to Merlin beyond any doubt how much she cared for the Prince. He smiled reassuringly getting up.

As soon as they were on their feet, he changed his attention to her hands and untied them gently. A torrent of rage flooded his veins at the sight. Her petite and delicate wrists were burned and bruised by the rope…

"Whoever did this to you will pay, you can be sure of that…"

Appreciative of his concern and vehemence, Gwynn smiled again and stepping on her toes kissed him softly in the cheek.

"Thank you again Merlin."

The gesture was so unexpected and spontaneous that Merlin froze for a moment, a silly smile plastered in his face. She began walking ahead when the pain in her ankle made her wince bringing the warlock out of his reverie, and he rushed to her side lending his arm in support.

"What's wrong?"

"It's my ankle… I must have hurt it when I tripped over there… But I think I can walk anyway…" She tried to smile, but the pain couldn't be disguised.

"No, my lady, I'm afraid you cannot. If you allow me, I shall carry you."

"Really, it is not necessary…"

"I think it is, my lady… I have promised Arthur that I would bring you back safe and sound, and that includes your ankle Princess. It might be broken and you definitely shouldn't walk until we take a closer look at it."

Going by his stern disposition, the Princess knew that she would not win this discussion; and truth be told, her ankle was really hurting. She conceded with a playful look.  
"All right, Merlin. I accept, as long as you promise to call me Gwynn …"

Smiling in agreement, the warlock lifted her in his arms and began walking.  
"Gwynn it is then…"

"Are you sure I am not too heavy for you?"

"Not at all…" Merlin assured. "I'm stronger than I look and besides," he winked, "you are far lighter than Arthur's mail chain and battle gear, believe me."

* * *

Arthur was regaining his complete consciousness. His head was pounding badly and when he touched the wounded part his fingers came out tinted with blood, yet he paid no heed to that. Still dizzy and struggling to maintain his balance, he walked over the bodies making sure they were definitely dead.

A somewhat sadistic smile marred his face. They were. All of them.  
_Good._

He then went towards the knight.  
"Are you all right Lescaut?"

"Yes… and you?"

Arthur nodded, disregarding his dizziness and his throbbing headache. His chest was also sore, though, and he rubbed it as his smile turned amused.  
"Leave it to Gwynn to attack her saviors…"

The Prince's words were mostly intended for him, but Lescaut heard them as well and a shadow of a smirk cracked the otherwise grave expression of the guard.

Even though Arthur's relationship with the Leoness knight was civil at best, the Prince did recognize the skills and loyalty of the young soldier. If it hadn't been for Lescaut's quick thinking, they wouldn't have been able to catch the kidnappers before they've gotten too far away.

"You did good…"

Lescaut bowed his head in acknowledgement and tried to move his leg to revise his makeshift bandage, groaning lowly in pain.

"How is your leg?"

"It's not bad. It should be fine in no time."

There was something more than physical discomfort in the young knight's expression… an unreserved worry that made the Prince speak without thinking.

"She will be all right."

"Of course. I am sure Merlin will bring her back shortly."

Arthur's lips curved slightly in a prospect of a smile. He was confident that his friend would.

Nevertheless, he also knew that the concerned eyes of the knight responded to another lady's situation as well.  
"I meant Helene…"

Sure enough, the name struck a chord in the soldier's heart and his usually impassible face faintly grimaced in despair. But before anyone could say anything else on the matter, a sound from the nearby trees made the Prince swiftly grab his sword preparing for another battle.

When Merlin came into view with Gwynn in his arms, Arthur feared the worst and moved towards them with nervous steps.

_Was she…?_

If he had bothered to look at his manservant he would have seen the warlock's triumphant smile. But his eyes were trained on her and _only_ her. She was resting on Merlin's shoulder and looked ever so small and frail…

As they came closer, Gwynn turned to him and smiled, and only then Arthur allowed his lungs to expel air. She was all right…

Whilst receiving her in his arms, the Prince had the vague recollection of Merlin saying something about a strained ankle and that she shouldn't walk by herself; but it was Gwynn who had the undivided attention of all his senses.

Grabbing her tenderly and without a word, he crashed her body on his chest sinking his face in her hair.

"I thought I've lost you…" He whispered at last, far more shaken than he had first imagined. "I am so sorry, Gwynn…"

The Princess melted against him, cocooned and protected within those mighty arms that were embracing her as if his life depended on it. She swallowed her tears of relief not wanting to add to his distress and sighed instead—albeit quite shakily—against his neck.

"I am fine… Thank you for coming for me…"

Now that she was safe in his arms, the implications of the situation downed on the Prince with full force once again. These bandits were vicious and professional killers and she had been at their mercy because of him.

"I am sorry… I shouldn't have…" He inhaled forcefully. "It was all my fault…"

Dazed by his closeness and quickly tiring as the adrenaline was wearing out from her aching body, it took a moment for his last words to settle in Gwynn's overworked brain. When they did, she straightened up and looked intently in his eyes, confusion written all over her face.

"What do you mean it was _your_ fault my lord?"

Arthur held her eyes while voicing his regrets with a remorseful, tortured tone.  
"I cornered your uncle last night… I pushed him into a desperate measure and this was the outcome… I should have known better… I should…"

Astonished and speechless at the utterly erroneous and self-reproaching tirade, Gwynn was shaking her head willing him to stop the nonsense. And when Arthur did not heed the signal, she went for a more practical means to shut him up.

Firmly grabbing the handsome face in her hands, she pressed her lips against his, effectively silencing him… When her soft mouth touched his, the Prince lost all train of thoughts and it took him only a split second to react and kissed her back.

_Gods… She tasted so good… So… alive.  
_All his desperation and fears were slowing being exorcized by that earth-shattering, ever-lasting kiss.

He knew he should stop. They were in the middle of nowhere, in a dangerous path and with only a guard and a manservant neither of whom, by the way, should be witnessing this. But he couldn't...

_Not yet… _  
His hands fisted in her robes as he tried to reign on his impulses.  
Friendship's limits be damned, this felt just too right to be wrong…

Trying not to look too amused, Merlin moved away… Not only it was inappropriate to intrude in their Royal Highnesses affairs… he truly had a hard time not laughing.

"_Marriage NOT being decided my buttocks…"_ he ruminated, shaking his head. _"They can't keep their hands off each other…"_

He walked towards Lescaut, who was also struggling not to show any reaction at the scene. Nevertheless, the brief look that wizard and soldier exchanged left no doubt that they were both thinking _exactly_ the same thing. Silently, they began to move the bodies waiting for the couple to finish their interlude.

When Arthur urgency was somehow satisfied, he pulled his lips from Gwynn's… For a long moment words were not needed… Nothing they could have said would have accomplished more than what the kiss had spoken…

Gwynn broke the silence first, her hands now around his neck, and her eyes unbendingly fixed in the impossibly blue ones.  
"You are _not_ responsible, my lord. This would have happened sooner or later and you know it. I am glad it happened while you were still in Leoness to… protect me." She finished smiling timidly.

The Prince studied her carefully as they both were trying to compose themselves. He had already learned that she would never cease to surprise him, no matter how much time they would spend together. Gwynn was a very insightful, profound human being with so many marvelous secrets he wondered if a lifetime together would be enough to uncover them…

To his dismay, he reckoned that he was exceedingly anxious to embark in that discovery… As things were, however, that was now an impossible, forbidden endeavor… The two little words that had tortured his brain and heart ever since he learned her secret hit him again.

_If only…_

Absentmindedly caressing his neck, Gwynn was hazily wondering about his thoughts. He kept looking at her with that paradoxical expression in his eyes—between hopeful and hopeless—that she had come to know so well.

Before long, her hands touched something humid and her placid expression turned into horror when she saw her fingers stained with his blood. She tried to get back to the ground.

"Goodness, Arthur! You're hurt! Please, put me down…! You shouldn't carry me… Put me down, my lord!"

He was about to oblige as she was getting very agitated, but remembered Merlin's words about her ankle and changed his mind. Holding her more firmly to prevent her escape, he shook his head.

"I'm afraid that's not an option, Princess. You hurt your ankle and you shouldn't walk nor stand until we are sure it's not broken…"

"And _YOU _should not be carrying me while you're injured on your head and bleeding!"

Arthur laughed with heart and soul at her scolding.  
"Well… I am bigger, stronger than you, and besides," he winked devilishly, "you always say I have a very strong head, don't you?"

By now Gwynn knew very well that whenever the Prince decided to put his charm to work, she was incapable of denying him anything… even against her own good sense. She shook her head chuckling softly.

"No, my lord… I always say that you are very _headstrong_… But I'm afraid that doesn't necessarily mean that you can go freely hitting your head against every rock you find… " She sighed. "We need to compromise… Put me down in some place so I can take a look at your wound…"

"I think that might work." Arthur looked around trying to find the right spot, still smiling at her sharp rebuttal.

"There… Over that rock… You can sit on the lower one so I can check your…" and she remarked. "_Strong head_, my lord…"

He gently placed her on the big boulder and sat at her feet, sheepishly offering his neck so she could examine it. The moonlight was fortunately still very bright and Gwynn was able to take an acceptable look at the wound.

"It doesn't look too big…"

"I told you so, my lady."

"BUT, it is still bleeding and we need to stop that…Stay there." She ordered.

She grabbed her underskirt again and finished it up ripping long pieces of fabric to make the bandage. Arthur was frankly amused at this... It was a good thing that the skirt was long enough, he reckoned. Otherwise, he had no doubt the Princess would still have ripped off all of it, completely oblivious of the fact she was getting rid of her clothing… He couldn't control a laugh. Of course she would!

"What's so funny?" She asked absorbed in her task.

"You are, my lady…"

Gwynn had started the bandaging and was carefully wrapping the piece of cloth around his head.  
"Oh… I see… I thought we have been over this, my lord… I told you that being your personal source of amusement was not flattering whatsoever…"

With a devilish smile dancing on her face, she tightened the bandage probably a bit rougher than necessary.

"Ouch! Careful with that!"

She leaned towards him and whispered with a low voice that covered Arthur's skin with goose bumps.  
"His Highness should know better than to aggravate me when I am tending him… Now shouldn't he?"

Had Gwynn known what her innocent joke would unleash, she would have probably taken it back… Arthur instantly turned around and firmly grabbed her chin, bringing her face less than an inch from his and watching with delight how her eyes widened and her cheeks blushed profusely. His thumb sensually caressed her trembling bottom lip and his husky voice made her throat contract in anticipation.

"And you, my lady, should know better than to tempt me like that…"

Against all his good instincts, Arthur was dying to kiss her again. Her newly found boldness was like oxygen to his fire and he could only think how marvelous it would be to make her surrender to him. The friend-zone boundaries had already been blurred a moment ago… so perhaps…

Merlin's conspicuous cough prevented the Prince to continue his mental innuendo. Rolling his eyes, he turned to his servant.

"Now what Merlin?"

"Shouldn't you check on the Princess' ankle?"

Arthur truly hated when Merlin was right, particularly for that annoying little smug smile that his friend use to wear in those moments. All the same, that didn't change the fact that the observation was right on target. He turned to Gwynn once again who was still blushing from the previous interlude and mentally chastising herself for getting into those predicaments with the Prince.

"May I?"

The roguish expression of the Prince did little to help her ongoing flush, and she wondered what was going through his mind. Her narrowing eyes told Arthur that she was obviously aware of the double meaning of his question—or close to—and a sly smile crowned his sensual lips.

"You may…" She finally acquiesced though there was a hint of suspicion in her tone.

Arthur did his best to maintain a detached demeanor when lifting her dress and taking off the slipper to examine her ankle. He tried and probed the different points and movements, assessing where and how much it hurt, all the while his blood was ringing in his ears and his mouth was increasingly getting parched.

The perfectly shaped calf was begging to be caressed and the Prince had to reach for everything he had learned about self-control during his long years of royal training in order to disguise his turmoil. When he was done with the examination, his stern face revealed nothing of how profoundly the intimacy of the moment had shaken him.

"It does not seem to be broken. You may try and stand and see how it feels."

He helped her on her feet and—desperately needing to get away from her to regain his footing—he handed her over to Merlin, muttering something about hiding the bodies and walking away with brusque strides.

Although slightly confused by the Prince's sudden and inexplicable change, Gwynn also welcomed the momentary respite from such emotionally charged atmosphere. Merlin on the other hand, accurately guessed the real reason behind his master's abrupt retreat and smiled knowingly.

* * *

The cart had been tumbled over the nearby cliff to make it disappear. If the Steward's men happened to reach the area, they would not find any signs of what had occurred there. The bodies were to be dispatched as well.

Before that, however, Gwynn had insisted in looking at the dead bandits and no one had the heart to try to convince her otherwise. Arthur had been next to her the whole time, wanting to offer his arms for comfort but deciding against it when she stiffened at his proximity. He realized then that she wanted to do this by herself and respected it.

The Princess walked towards the bodies with hesitant steps and using Lescaut's sword removed the hoods of the few still wearing it until she found the one she was looking for.

Gurgeneu.

The three men frowned in disgust at the deformed face of the dead assassin, now illuminated by the flaming log the royal guard was carrying. Arthur saw the burning marks on the assassin's flesh and understood immediately: Gwynn_ knew_ this man, he was sure of it. However, with Merlin and Lescaut around, he dared not ask her about it.

After long minutes of looking at the killer, the Princess turned to them, her voice somber and raspy.  
"Who killed him?"

"I did."

She softly bowed her head to the Prince; her face cold and unreadable.  
It was a royal salutation, not more than that, and Arthur also recognized the meaning. The Lady of Leoness was acknowledging a soldier. Only the gods—and her—knew exactly why she was doing so in this particular case…

"Thank you, Sire."

Arthur only nodded in response.  
Someday, hopefully, she would tell him who this man was. At the moment he was just glad that—by pure chance—it was his blade the one that had avenged the Princess.

* * *

They were all sitting silently around the fire. No one spoke for a while, mindful of the somber demeanor of the Princess, who sat with her eyes fixed on the flames and lost in her thoughts.

Lescaut was admiring the newly dressed bandage on his leg, courtesy of his mistress and, of course, the last vestige of her underskirts… Merlin was playing with some sticks and the fire, and Arthur was attentively observing Gwynn. At one point, he saw her bracing herself, chilled by the cool night air and decided that it had been enough mourning already and they needed to keep moving.

Getting up, he approached the Princess and put his coat over her shoulders. The movement brought Gywnn back from her reflections and her eyes blinked at the same time a small smile thanked Arthur for his gesture.

Shaking her dark memories away, the Princess spoke first.  
"How did you find me?"

"Actually it was Helene…" Lescaut was about to relate the events when he saw Arthur—from behind the Princess—shaking his head with meaningful eyes.

The guard understood. It wouldn't do any good to let his mistress know about Helene's injuries. The news would certainly distress the Princess and she had been already through a lot. Once again, the young knight had to agree that the Camelot royal was correct.

"… She realized you were missing and we followed the trail of these villains." He finished.

The commanding voice of the Prince was heard a moment later.  
"We cannot let anyone know the Princess is still alive."

The two men assented and Arthur continued with his plan. He asked Lescaut about the situation in the castle, to which the knight answered that currently—and even including the Camelot knights—the forces loyal to the Princess were likely outnumbered. It would be better to wait for his father and the large battalions to return.

At that point—and agreeing with the guard's assessment—the Prince asked Lescaut to go back to the Citadel with the news of the failed rescue attempt. He should also carry a message to the Camelot knights to stay put until receiving new orders. They would reconvene once Sir Alric's forces were back.

It was then Merlin's turn to ask where they would keep the Princess safe in the mean time and before anyone could say another word, her voice came clear and assertive. And annoyed as well.

"I would appreciate gentlemen, if you would stop making plans about _me _while acting as if I am not even here…"

The three men turned to her, eyebrows up. Looking at her purposeful stance, it was hard to believe that she had been kidnapped and almost killed only hours ago. No one said anything, but the three thought that it would be wiser to heed her words…

Arthur reacted first—to the relief of the other two—and walked to her, hands up in surrender.  
"Apologies, Princess… It was certainly not our intention to do so. By all means, please enlighten us."

In any other moment, Gwynn might have picked up on the fact that the Prince was biting her. Ignoring the pun, though, she turned her attention to Lescaut.

"These lands seem familiar… Do you know where are we?"

A light of realization shone in the knight's eyes and he nodded.  
"We are close to the lands of Caerfyrddin…"

The name rang not one but twenty bells on Merlin's head and he vividly looked up.  
"Caerfyrddin?"

Frowning, Arthur looked at him strangely,  
"Do you know the place…?"

"Well… I know _of_ it…"

The warlock shrugged his shoulders trying to dissimulate his previous enthusiasm but Gaius' words had come promptly to his memory. _"Caerfyrddin… That's where your father and ancestors come from…" _

His heart was beating faster at the prospect of visiting his forefather's lands…  
_"Your lineage and the Princess' hail from the same mythical place…" _His mentor had stressed... Out of nowhere, the wizard was struck with the acute premonition that something crucial would take place in the upcoming days. His thoughts, however, were interrupted when the Princess spoke again.

"Then I know exactly where we will find sanctuary there…"

"Oh… Not that witch with her crazy granddaughter…" Even though Lescaut surly muttered the words for himself, everyone in the group heard them amid the silence of the sleeping forest.

Arthur stiffened at the word 'witch' and Gwynn scowled at the young knight.  
"Lescaut! Be nice, please." She admonished and, turning to Arthur, dismissed the poor choice of words. "Enynny is _not _a witch, but a very sweet old fortune teller… "

Then, with a mischievous look, she decided to make her guard paid for his thoughtlessness.  
"Lescaut doesn't like Enynny's grand-daughter because the last time we were there—more than ten years ago by now—Wledyr was sweet on him."

Not minding a bit the knight's murderous eyes on her, the Princess continued laughing amused.  
"_Very _sweet on him."

Merlin and Arthur were suddenly entertained at the joyful quarrel that had unexpectedly ensued between the Princess and her guard. Sobering up right away, however, Gwynn finished the explanation still disregarding her guard's sullen looks.

"We will be safe there. Ruther does not know of them and I haven't been back to keep it that way. Enynny was a good friend of my grandmother and my mother as well… "

Merlin observed Arthur's demeanor carefully. Despite the Princess' explanation, he knew the word '_witch_' was stuck in his mater's mind and he could see his charge's internal debate. Nonetheless, the safety of Gwynn seemed to have prevailed, because Arthur acquiesced.

"It is settled then. We are going to Caerfyrddin."

Merlin's heart jumped to his throat… He was going to his forefather's lands!  
_The land of the dragon-lords…_

Amidst his excitement the warlock couldn't help but wonder how things had been unfolding ever since the trip to Eleara.

Was all this part of the prophecy?  
Was fate really playing its silent part?

Whatever the case, he knew the trip would be a memorable one.

* * *

;-)


	32. Chapter 32: Caerfyrddin

SAME DISCLAIMER AS IN CHAPTER 1

_**HAPPY NEW YEAR TO EVERYONE!**_

I hope everyone'd had a wonderful and safe Holiday Season!

Sorry for the long hiatus, but I'm sure that since we have all been busy with the season, you probably haven't missed much the updates.  
In any case, here it is :-)

Oh... two brief clarifications:

1) This story was written after Season 2 and it is a spin-off (meaning it does not necessarily follow the plot set by the series) and it has definitely nothing to do with Season 3 (which I haven't really seen anyways)

2) I'm a dudette ;-)

* * *

_**Chapter 32: Caerfyrddin**_

If Merlin had to pick a word to describe the trip to Caerfyrddin, _bizarre_ would have most likely been the choice. On one hand there was the odd behavior of the royals, who after the previous passionate interlude seemed to have decided to distant each other again. And then there was the increasingly unsettling feeling rooted in his chest…

He had always been able to sense magic. This new sensation, however, was beyond that… It was something of the likes he had never felt before.

The unusual emotion kept growing stronger as they moved towards their destination and the warlock could only pray that nothing extreme would happen. Although by the way things had developed ever since Arthur and he had traveled to Eleara—he reasoned—he should at least assume that whatever was going to occur was _not_ going to be within the limits of ordinary… and by a long shot. He just hoped that no matter how extraordinary the events, his secret and ultimate mission would remain safe.

After Lescaut had left to go back to the Citadel, the trio had marched towards Ennyny's manor following a narrow and sometimes non-existent path between the forest and the coast. According to the Princess and her guard, Caerfyrddin was one full day away from the Citadel. Therefore, if they were to ride without long stops and major incidents along the way, they could expect to reach their sanctuary by the following nightfall.

The Princess had insisted in riding alone in spite of Arthur's gentle insinuations at first … and forceful intimations at last that she'd ride with him. The Prince had argued—with logic, according to the warlock's opinion—that her injuries and the intense emotions of the previous events had most certainly taken their toll, and there was no need to further subject her already depleted resistance to the added effort of riding alone.

Not surprisingly, however, Gwynn had declined graciously at the beginning… and equally forcefully at the end. At this point, groaning lowly and muttering all sorts of epithets regarding her stubbornness, the Prince had had to acquiesce and his servant couldn't hide a smile.

Just when Merlin was about to make a mocking comment on the similarities of some royals' tempers, a familiar voice sounded in his head almost freezing him. He knew the voice very well. He'd heard it in his dreams when he had first arrived in Camelot, and then the many times he had spoken with its owner: Kilgharrah …

_Welcome home, young warlock... Welcome to the land of your kin… We shall see each other again very soon._

The hair of his neck stood up and he swallowed hard looking frantically at the night sky for a sign of the mystical beast. Nothing…

The wizard sighed in momentary relief. Nonetheless, another thought filled him with renewed anxiety: if this was indeed the land of the dragon-lords, then it was entirely conceivable that dragons might also dwell there.

Whatever the case, Kilgharrah's presence would only cause troubles. Merlin didn't trust him, even if at the end the beast would yield to him as a one of the dragon-lords. It was going to be better for the encounter to never occur.

Half way during his mental prayers for the dragon to remain out of sight, the young wizard noticed the Princess leaning towards her side and, afraid she would fall, he rushed to her help forgetting about Kilgharrah and his previous concerns.

At the gentle touch of the warlock, Gwynn woke up from her momentary sleepiness and, seeing her obviously weary state, Arthur insisted… as usual to little avail.

"I am fine." She yawned.

"I'm sure you are." The angry sarcasm in the voice of the Prince was apparently lost to her, since no witty response was heard.

Another hour passed and the Princess was falling asleep once again. This time it was Arthur who moved next to her.

"Gwynn… you have to stop this. You are exhausting yourself for no reason."

"Nonsense. I can ride…" She answered amidst a yawn. "No need to overload your horse…" Another long yawn. "I am … fine…."

A mere few seconds after she finished the last sentence, she leaned again—this time almost falling—and only the Prince's swift reaction saved her from hitting the ground. Arthur grabbed her by the waist and moved her over his mount with a determined and efficient movement. So much so, that she didn't even seem to realize what he'd done.

Settling her within his arms, Arthur prepared for another argument—and so did Merlin—but instead the Prince shut his mouth, momentarily dumbfounded by the situation. She was fast asleep…

_And less than a minute ago you still argued that you could do it! _

Shaking his head in utter disbelief, Arthur gazed at his servant who couldn't help a laugh this time and, after another moment of total surprise, the Prince joined him with a chuckle.

"She certainly is something else…" Mused the warlock.

"You have no idea…"

* * *

With the first light of the dawn the riders stopped near a stream of water to allow the horses to rest a bit. Arthur handled the profoundly asleep Princess to Merlin, and between servant and master prepared a makeshift bed with dry leaves to let her rest. She didn't wake up nor make any sound.

The warlock smiled smugly observing his Prince tenderly covering the Princess with his jacket and moving some strands of tousled hair away from her face. Seemingly noticing the scrutiny, Arthur looked at him inquisitively, prompting his explanation.

"I was just thinking that she is going to be a wonderful Queen."

"Indeed…"

There was a sad and almost bitter expression in the Prince's eyes, which Merlin didn't understand at first, so he kept joking.  
"Who knows… She may even be able to make you civil…" He scorned.

Rather than rebutting the pun, Arthur stood up silently and walked towards the stream to wet his face. Merlin frowned, following and doing the same.

A second later, a doubt struck the warlock.  
"You _are_ going to marry her, aren't you?"

"No." Arthur didn't look at him and removing his bandages kept washing away the tiredness and toil from the eventful trip.

"No?" Merlin froze. "You mean…"

"I gave her my word."

"…"

The Prince sighed in frustration. He knew Merlin's muted question would soon develop into a full and irritating inquisition. It was going to be better to simply disclose his plight.

"I've told her that if she gave me a valid reason not to marry her, I would cancel the treaty." He shook his head in defeat; his voice devoid of emotion. "She did and thus I cannot go back on my word."

It was then the warlock's turn to be annoyed. What was the matter with these two stubborn royals? Couldn't they see what was in plain sight for everyone else? Why the hell was Arthur doing this to himself… to _them_?

Someone really needed to knock some sense into them and—just his luck—it appeared that it was going to be _his_ job as well. So be it then…

"Don't you think that things have changed _enough _since Eleara?" Merlin's voice sounded decidedly purposeful. "Have you actually _asked _her if she still wants that?"  
_She seemed to like you just fine last night…_

"No."

The warlock swallowed a groan of frustration.  
"Aren't you going to?"

The Prince only shrugged his shoulders. His demeanor so apathetic that not even his servant diatribe could bring him out of his gloomy state of mind.  
"I don't know."

Before Merlin could continue with his poking to get a reaction—_any _reaction—out of Arthur other than this… self-imposed obtuse determination, a noise and a soft groan made them both turn towards the Princess, who was slowly awakening.

* * *

By dawn Lescaut had already reached the Citadel and had moved into the palace stealthily and undetected. His first stop had been to the physician's quarters, more out of interest to learn about Helene than of concern for his wounded leg.

Once he'd been reassured that she was well and resting he had turned to leave and the old physician had been able to clearly see his limping, forcing him to stay to get tended.

With a newly bandaged leg, some potion for the pain and a cane—_a cane!_—to walk, Lescaut had made his way to Helene's quarters. He had adamantly rejected the walking aid, but the physician had been even more inflexible.

"_I have tended your wounds ever since you could walk, Captain. By now, you should know better than to argue my recommendations."_ The old man had scolded. _" IF you want to heal fast and fully you will do well to remember to keep your weight out of your injured leg as much as you can…"_

Cursing his luck, he arrived at Helene's room. A tiny servant girl was sleeping on a chair next to the bed and her startled gasp at the sight of the knight woke up the lady in waiting as well.

Lescaut's heart went to his throat when Helene's confused eyes locked into his and reality began to settle in. He moved hesitantly towards the bed, his dark gaze full of concern and distress.

None spoke. Fearing the worst, Helene sobbed loudly with all the sorrow in the world and covered her face with her hands.

The always-solemn warrior couldn't stand it any longer and with two large strides was sitting next to her in a second, grabbing her trembling body in his arms. Helene fisted his jacket in hopelessness and continued crying quietly on his chest.

The young captain could only hide his face in her golden hair, desperately tightening his embrace.  
_I thought I've lost you…_

It was only after long moments of breathing into her to try and calm his thumping heart that Lescaut realized Helene had misread his sadness and was crying for Gwynn. A dilemma cursed through his numbed mind like a thunderbolt. He had promised the Prince to keep the fate of the Princess a secret… but the sole idea of imposing such grief in Helene was mercilessly tearing his insides.

He had always done what was expected of him. He had never, ever, thought of his own needs and desires but only the well being of his charge.

This was Helene, however.  
_His Helene…_

After the ambush where Gwynn's parents and Helene's father had died, the two girls had become even more attached to each other, virtually turning into sisters. And ever since his father had assigned him to protect the Princess, the three of them had just about grown up together, and both ladies had treated him like a brother of sorts.

Except that he never truly saw Helene as such. He had loved her for as long as he could remember. Unfortunately for him, she had never shown any interest other than that of a dear friend and her mistress' guard.

As years went by, his heart had gotten used to the idea. He was a warrior and knew how to push pain away.

Until now, that was.  
The horror of loosing Helene had been the strongest blow his bruised heart had ever received, and the realization that he wouldn't be able to live without her had crushed him with the force of a sea tempest, nearly asphyxiating him… He had been so distressed by the discovery that had even made a stupid mistake during the fight, which had earned him the wound on his leg.

Should he once again fulfill his orders to the letter and let her suffer the lost of the only family she knew?

_No. _  
For once, he'd do what his heart was telling him. He'd had enough regrets during the last couple of hours to last him a lifetime; there was no reason to add another.

Gently caressing the silky tresses of golden locks that were tangled in his fingers, the knight motioned the servant girl to leave. Once they were alone, he murmured:

"She is all right, Helene. We've found her… Please do not cry…"

His words took a moment to permeate through Helene's tortured brain and only after a while she lifted confused grey eyes to his handsome face, forcing the troubled captain to swallow hard.

_Please do not look at me this way…_

In all the years they have known each other, Lescaut had gone through several stages of his unrequited love. The angry frustration of the one-sided adolescent passion slowly but surely faded away throughout his early manhood, and he had taught himself to be perfectly impassible in her presence and immune to her closeness.

Apparently, also until now.

He had been so frightened for her… And now, the relief of seeing her safe—and in his arms no less—was more than his confused mind could handle. Never in his wildest dreams had he dared to imagine himself in a situation like this stolen moment.

She was visibly shaken and he knew she needed his comfort, even if it was pure torture for him… As her sweet perfume surrounded him, he felt his blood pounding wildly in his temples and forced himself to explain through a parched throat.

"The Prince, Merlin and I found her. They have taken her to Caerfyrddin."

A hesitant, unsure smile began making its way to Helene's trembling lips and her hands grabbed his jacket more forcefully, as if pleading him to reassure her. Her breathing was still uneven and her chest was shuddering with random spasms from the previous copious cry.

"You found her…" She whispered, her eyes full of admiration and wonder. "Thank you Lescaut…"

Oh… How he loved her… He would have never imagined how good it would feel to have her petite body in his arms.

Completely unaware of the inner battle the Captain was fighting, Helene was also reeling from her own turmoil. Gwynn was alive and safe… _Alive and safe! _The Prince and this wonderful knight of her dreams had saved her one and only friend from a terrible fate…

It also dawned on her that she was in Lescaut's arms and an irrepressible blush colored her otherwise pale cheeks. Suddenly, her mind recalled the reason why she'd been in Gwynn's quarters just in time to witness the abduction: to complain about her mistress' matchmaking plan.

The pinkish blush of her face turned a furious red when she remembered her determination the previous night. And now, comfortably sheltered by those strong arms, she couldn't help but to feel ashamed. However… Was she ashamed of her decision to put a halt to the Princess' plot, or ashamed of the pleasure his embrace was providing…?

Amidst its confusion, Helene's practical mind was still able to rescue the last thought that had crossed her before being wounded by the assailant's dagger. Her eyes widened in fear.

"The captors had help from inside the castle, Lescaut! They…"

The mention of the thugs was a splash of freezing water over the heated Captain and his hasty stiffening effectively stopped Helene's train of thought. Lescaut tried to recompose himself but couldn't let go of his embrace just yet, though he softened it, moving slightly back.

Only partially recovering, he was about to tell her everything when her bandaged shoulder captured his attention instead. A torrent of rage flooded his veins.

"Whoever did this to you had paid tenfold… I promise you that…"

His voice had a deep, untamed fury and Helene felt an immense gratitude inundating her soul. He truly cared about her… He would probably even die for her out of duty… Her heart shrunk in pain… He was so noble… so selfless… Tears threatened her eyes again, but she conquered them trying to smile reassuringly.

Lescaut's eyes were hooked by hers, his heart beating ferociously. They were so close… her mouth was so close… Something much more powerful than his own self-control was pulling him to her. Somewhere in the back of his mind an alarm went off, something about losing his friend and his dignity, or so he thought… But she was absolutely, completely alluring… and he was just a helpless man in love.

Oblivious of what was about to happen, Helene once again misread the knight's emotions. She wondered about the further darkening of his eyes and the strong beating of his heart under her hand. Lescaut had always been so collected, so… unflappable.

Taking for granted that it was only his offended sense of justice that had him so flustered, she widened her smile and tried to sound like her usual self to put the Captain at ease. Little did she know that her intended comfort felt like a hot blade in the poor man's heart.

"I am all right now Captain… You don't need to worry about it…" She took a deep breath. "Would you relate to me what happened, my lord?"

Lescaut bowed respectfully, retreating from her, and finally getting a grip on the emotions that have been running wildly through him during the last couple of minutes. He pushed away the embarrassment of almost kissing her, knowing that it was probably one of the most foolish things he'd ever done... or been about to. In any case, she had been totally clueless, as usual, and things were back as they had always been.

"Your wishes are my command, my lady."

* * *

Gwynn was sitting on a low rock next to the stream while Arthur was gently washing out her face with a piece of his own undershirt, being that her underskirt was gone for good.

Under the bright morning light, Prince and servant had been able to finally see not only her entirely disheveled state but, most disturbingly, the true extent of her wounds. She was covered in dirt and had a huge bruise in her right temple where the thugs had hit her. Her wrists were battered and burnt by the ropes and her arms beaten by the bumping around in the cart. The marks would certainly turn an ugly blue in a short time.

Arthur's jaw contracted in barely contained rage every time she flinched in pain under his ministrations, no matter how careful he was trying to be.

_He would kill Ruther._  
_And, he would do it with pleasure._

"Let it go my lord…"

Her soft voice brought him out of his murderous thoughts; his eyes slightly confused at her words.  
"I beg your pardon?"

Although the pain in her temple felt amplified with every miniscule movement of her face, Gwynn tried to smile without wincing.  
"Stop sulking over this. It's over now…"

Amidst his anger, Arthur found her keen intuition amusing and couldn't forbear smiling in return.  
"How did you know what I was thinking?"

She looked at him knowingly, her smile widening.  
"Because when you are not in your… Princely mode, you are quite easy to read as a matter of fact."

The choice of words brought forth a chuckle from Arthur, his revenge momentarily forgotten.  
"I see… And how did you know that I was not in my… _Princely mode_, as you called it?"

Her eyes turned mischievous.  
"Because you _were_ easy to read…"

Arthur felt his pulse racing at her expression and had to marvel once again about this Princess. He looked at her pensively while his thoughts wandered to the previous conversation with Merlin.

Would her determination of _not _marrying him have changed after everything that had happened? Would she consider his courting after all?

One thing was the physical attraction—openly acknowledged by both, as a matter of fact—that pulled them towards each other every time they were near. Another thing would be for the Princess to seriously consider yielding her beloved country to him… More exactly to _his father_ as things were at the moment.

Somehow he doubted it. And although he felt suddenly compelled to ask her, he also knew the moment was far from appropriate. There were more urgent things at hand, and romantic notions of any kind would have to be put on hold until the entire situation in Leoness had been settled one way or another.

Nonetheless, he had to admit that being allowed to openly court her would have been a more than enticing adventure.

_Speaking of enticing… _

Even with the bruises and her tousled hair she looked beautiful. Her eyes were bright and impossibly green under the raising sun. She was still wearing his jacket and the oversize piece of clothing made her look small and frail…and…

_His…_

The possessive adjective resounded in his brain and the soft blush that suddenly covered her face told him that maybe she could, indeed, read him like an open book. One way to know…

His lips curved sideways in a roguish grin.  
"Do you know what I'm thinking now my lady?"

Her mouth opened slightly in an outraged _'Oh…'_ and the Prince let out a laugh. She knew…

The opportunity was too precious to let it pass and, grabbing the collar of his jacket, Arthur began to pull her to him, closing the distance to kiss her. Right then, Merlin's voice reached them from the near forest and she moved away, looking equally flustered and annoyed.

_Was she upset because he was about to kiss her or because he had pulled away?_

Unfortunately, with his servant coming, the question… and the kiss of course, would have to wait. Besides, the Princess had apparently decided to conclude the interlude and stood up, smiling at Merlin's arrival.

And then it happened… As she moved towards the complaining servant, Gwynn shot a furtive glance back to Arthur, which made the Prince's blood instantly boil.

_What was that? _

Although it had been only a fleeting second, that small… almost devilish smile playing in her lips had been taunting… He knew her by now. _That_ had not been embarrassment, or coyness, or annoyance…

_Was she provoking him?  
Oh… He would get her alone and would make sure…_

But Merlin was already upon them.  
"I couldn't find anything to eat except for these pitiful berries… Here Princess… You take your pick first of the best ones …"

* * *

Ruther was eyeing the young Captain like a hawk, trying to decide if Alric's son was being truthful.  
"And you say that you could not find the trail of the captors?"

"No Sir. We left the Citadel as soon as we discovered the Princess was missing, but there was no sign of a riding party anywhere to be seen." He lied impassibly.

As soon as the Steward had gotten word that the royal guard was back in the palace, he had sent for him and his messenger found Lescaut in lady Helene's quarters, courtesy of the servant girl who had been dismissed by the knight. After the kidnapping, Ruther had wanted to interrogate the lady in waiting but according to the royal physician, the healing potions and the stress of the attack had had her profoundly asleep. Still, he had to know.

"And the Princess' lady in waiting… Does she remember anything?"

"I am afraid not, Sir. Lady Helene was seriously wounded by the captors and she had been under medication ever since. Between her injuries and the shock of the assault, she does not remember what happened."

The Steward swallowed a smile of satisfaction and put on a fake concerned look instead.  
"What of the Camelot Prince then?"

The Captain changed his weight again to the good leg, discovering that standing up was more difficult than walking.  
"After our encounter with the bandits where I hurt my leg, Prince Arthur and his servant followed the path to the northern plains. He ordered me to come back to the Citadel to get tended before resuming the search."

"He did well, Lescaut." The steward lied in turn. "I am afraid your father would never forgive me if something should happen to you."

_Your concern is touching.  
_The face of the knight remained expressionless. In any case, the Steward's empty comment presented a good segue to the next question.  
"Do you have any news of my father's return, Sir?"

"Indeed. Apparently the rumors of an invasion had been greatly exaggerated. The troops will be back in the Citadel in two, maybe three days. Meanwhile, I have sent search parties of my own guard to all directions to find my niece… I am not going to rest until she is back, safe and sound."

_Of course you are…  
_"Is that all Sir?"

Ruther remained pensive for a moment. He had no reason to doubt the guard's story, and even if the lady in waiting eventually remembered something, her story would be most likely fragmented and useless.

As long as no one found Gwynn alive, there would be no connection between the kidnappers and him. He would wait until the royal platoons were back, send them also to a fruitless rescue mission and, when all hopes of finding the Princess were gone, he would crown himself as the rightful King of Leoness.

With no living heir or royal bloodline relative, no one would oppose this time. He could almost savor his victory…

"No, Captain. You are dismissed for now."

* * *

They rest of the ride had been as odd as the beginning, according to Merlin, though somewhat in a different way. There had been no more 'welcoming messages' from the dragon, for which he was very thankful; however, the awareness of some form of supernatural powers had kept growing steadily with each yard…

As per the royals… There was now some sort of playful tension between Prince and Princess, and they kept bantering with each other. In spite of the light atmosphere, Merlin could perceive that Arthur was… irked, though he couldn't figure out why. If asked, the warlock would have guessed that somehow Gwynn had gotten the upper hand of their mysterious game and Arthur was _truly_ a sore loser. He smiled at the thought. Maybe the gods were avenging him through the Princess…

They finally arrived at the old manor with the last light of the sunset. It was a large stony building, very ancient, most of which was covered in ivies. The site was outside the main road, between a small forest and a magnificent cliff over the ocean. The only other construction in sight was the servants' quarters, next to the stables and to the back of the main building; and if not for the smoking chimneys, the entire place appeared to be deserted.

As they approached the main house someone came to the door. She was a slightly plump young woman, possibly only a few years older than the Princess, with a face full of freckles and very shiny blue eyes. Her blonde curly hair was tousled and barely gathered with a ribbon, and her smile was welcoming and happy.

"Heavens be blessed! When grandmother told me you were coming I could not believe it! Finnabair, my dear… How long has it been?"

The Princess jumped off the horse and flew into the open arms of the rounded hostess, getting loss in a forceful embrace.

Merlin threw a look at Arthur, but the Prince's face didn't disclose what he was feeling or thinking. The warlock was also guarded. He would have to thread carefully there; magic was powerful in this place. The Princess, on the other hand, seemed clueless.

After a moment, the hostess turned to the men.  
"Please, please come… Supper is ready… I am Wledyr and we have been expecting you."

The warmth of the fire welcomed their cold bodies and as the smell of comforting food reached their nostrils, Merlin's stomach growled loudly. The Prince glared at him, but the warlock only shrugged his shoulders mouthing, _"I'm hungry…"_

At the table, an old lady was sitting and smiling. Her white hair was neatly done in a bun and her high cheeks and bone structure clearly indicated that she'd been a beauty when younger. She still was…

"Come and sit, please." Ennyny smiled. "Finnabair… come here child… I want to see you…"

As the Princess moved closer, the old lady stretched her hands to touch Gwynn's face. It was only then that Arthur and Merlin realized that the outstanding blue eyes of the lady were void of life. She was blind.

"May the Gods bless you my child…" She had the most beautiful voice. "Your beauty surpasses that of your mother… and even your grandmother. I am so happy to have you here… We have much to talk."

The two men from Camelot were fairly confused. Notwithstanding, the sense of peace and goodness that floated in the house was almost a living entity.

Gwynn embraced the old lady, and only then the willful Princess broke down and cried quietly. Arthur swallowed in awkwardness. Part of him felt as if intruding in a very private cathartic moment… Other part felt almost envious of Ennyny, wishing that Gwynn were looking for comfort on _his _chest.

Disappointment hit him point-blank. For all the innuendos and physical attraction, the Princess still did not trust him. She had only shared her secret to corner him into his word and prevent the unwanted marriage. The conclusion brought a bitter taste to his mouth, but his pride chased the incipient sadness away. If that's what she wanted, so be it…

Long moments passed in solemn silence; the only sounds in the room were the crackling of the fire in the hearth and the muffled sobs of the Princess. Eventually, Gwynn sat back, drying her tears with her hands and smiling mortified. Before she could muster an unwarranted apology, Ennyny caressed her face and turned to the men.

"And who are your two companions, dear?"

"Prince Arthur of Camelot and Merlin, his manservant."

But the knowing smile of Enynny clearly said that the introductions were redundant.  
"May I ask permission to see you, your highness."

Arthur came forward, understanding the meaning, and sat down to level with her allowing the hands of the woman to softly cover his face.

"Goodness… Aren't you a handsome one?" The Prince blushed slightly and was tempted to shot another deadly glare at Merlin's loud scoff, but did not want to turn away from Enynny. The touch of her hands was… calming.

Was this was magic was about?  
She had known they were coming. She knew who they were.  
Was she enchanting him and that was why he was feeling so… at peace?

Enynny retrieved her hands and smiled sweetly, the perceptive light still shining in her face.  
"No need to blush at the truth, your highness." She said first and Arthur chuckled softly, instinctively looking down; her next words, however, made him look up again. "And no need to be worried. No harm will ever come to you or Camelot from the people in this room, no matter your fears… and your doubts. Not everything is what it seems, Prince."

Perplexed at her cryptic words, Arthur stood up trying to come to terms with what she just said.

And then it was Merlin's turn. The warlock was very anxious. This lady had magic. No doubt about it… Or the gift of foresight, which in this case would account to the same problem: his secret revealed.

But as soon as he began walking slowly towards the table, her voice sounded in his head.

"_Come, my child… Welcome home… I have been waiting for you for many years Emrys… Do not worry my boy. Your secret is safe with me…"_

It was as if a gigantic weight had been lifted from his shoulders… His uneasiness had been rising with the growing strange sensation the closer they had gotten to Caerfyrddin. And only now he understood why… It had been a_ good_ strange all along; he just was not used to it…

It was a sense of belonging, of peace and goodness… Of everything magic was and should only be. These were his forefathers' lands… This was _home_ in a way that Ealdor could never be…

Sensing his relief, Enynny smiled meaningfully and caressed his face as well.  
"You are so young, Merlin… and so handsome too…"

This time it was Arthur who scoffed and was tempted to say something, but Enynny's voice halted him, loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Do not mind him… Your Prince is jealous because as of now, _you_ are my favorite."

Merlin turned to his master with a self-satisfied _"See? There…"_ expression, and Arthur's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

Relaxed by the exchange, the Prince jokingly complained.  
"It is not fair, my lady. You are breaking my heart."

Enynny laughed a crystalline laugh.  
"Oh… I do not think I can, dear Arthur. Whoever has your heart, protects it fiercely against any and all harm."

Without even thinking, the Prince looked at Gwynn who was suddenly busy inspecting her dirty hands. Enynny spoke again.

"Come… let us eat dinner and so you can bathe and rest from your perilous journey."

* * *

The following morning Arthur woke up earlier than anyone. Merlin was still snoring in his cot and the Prince decided to let him rest. He felt… great.

The dinner had been bountiful, the warm bath and clean clothes a blessing, and he had slept like a baby. The only strange aspect was that—not being an early riser by definition—for some reason he felt the need of getting up.

The house seemed to be still asleep and the smell of freshly baked bread took him to the main kitchen, where he found Enynny brewing tea and with the breakfast table already set. The lady evidently knew her way around the area...

"Good morning, Prince. I trust you have rested well."

Before he could speak, she continued. "I was expecting you. Breakfast is ready."

Arthur frowned.  
_Was there anything she would not know?_

To his surprise, Enynny giggled.  
"Not really, my Prince… But I am not a witch… or a sorceress, if that's what you fear… I have the gift of foresight… among others."

She sat and moved the cup of tea in front of him.  
"Although not as good as Maeve… Finnabair's grandmother…" She took a sip of her own beverage. "Be careful… It's very hot."

Rummaging around his brain for something to say, add or ask, Arthur found that he was at a loss of words, so he just mumbled a 'thank you' and decided to listen. It did not take long for him to realize that was exactly what this enigmatic lady had intended.

"I have hoped that you'd rise earlier than the others so we could talk. We do not have much time and there are many things you need to know." She smiled her inscrutable smile. "The rest will disclose itself in due course."

Arthur swallowed a chuckle, suddenly surmising the reason for his earlier-than-usual rising. It had been _her _all along.  
"Indeed my lady."

His ample grin, however, was wiped out of his face as soon as Ennyny spoke again.  
"I sense you are somehow aware of the conditions of your birth, your highness…"

/


	33. Chapter 33: Mis and Preconceptions

SAME DISCLAIMER AS IN CHAPTER 1

Sorry for yet another long hiatus, but life got in the way of fun and I've been unusually busy this first month of the year.

In top of that, this chapter turned out quite difficult to write actually, possibly the toughest so far.  
It's also very long, but I think it's a pivotal chapter in the story and it's overloaded with conflicting emotions.

In any case, here it is, and I truly hope you like it.

Cheers!

* * *

_**Chapter 33: Misconceptions and Preconceptions**_

Arthur was somberly looking at the hypnotizing beauty of the waves breaking on the rocky beach at the bottom of the cliff. It was a marvelous day of early autumn but the brightness of the clear sky felt like an affront to his dark mood.

Only the calming effect of the cold wind on his face made him stay on his spot. Somehow a murky corner, where he could never be found, seemed a more suitable place to be at the moment.

The conversation with Ennyny had left him drained and he had yet to find an adequate word able to describe what he was feeling. The disclosure of the circumstances of his birth had made him ill.

Morgause had lied to him through the enchantment of his mother, and he had been aware of that… But so had _his father_—even under the tip of his sword—by omitting one small detail…

"_It was not your father who deceived your mother as you were led to believe at some point. Both your parents wanted a child and neither of them would have accepted the price of creating a life, had they known what the price was. But the truth is, Arthur, you were born of magic…"_

It had been… deranging to realize how much of his life had been _a_ _lie_.  
A sick, twisted… _ironic_ lie.

He scoffed bitterly. 'Ironic' did not even begin to describe it…  
The sole heir to Camelot's throne only existed_ because_ of magic.

And yet, under his father's orders, he had spent his entire life persecuting and imprisoning everyone even_ suspected_ of practicing magic…! The thought still nauseated him.

Startlingly, however, during the conversation with Ennyny, and when his rage towards his progenitor had exploded at the revelation, the old lady had tried to appease him.

"_Do not be so quick to judge things that are too complex to understand." _She had said. _"Your parents were betrayed by people who said were they friends… And after the death of your mother, Arthur, there was no going back for your father." _

But how he could _not_?  
What right had his father had to lie to him this much?  
For what purpose?

The story Ennyny had related had been nothing short of shocking…

"_A long time ago, when I was but a child, and I am older than I look, I promise, magic flourished everywhere. It was used for good purposes and by good people. But as time went by, its power began corrupting some souls…"_  
_"At first, they were only some rogues here and there… But it only takes a couple of rotten apples to ruin a bunch, and the misuse of magic was allowed to grow unchecked until it was too late." _

"_These lands and some others had enough good people defending the true principles of magic, and so the evil doers were slowly pushed away and eventually moved out. Unfortunately, many of them went to the lands of Camelot. Some say that at some point they were even friends with the Druids… but there are tales of treasons amongst them as well"._

And it had been equally shocking to discover _everything else_ his father had hid from him throughout the years.

"_Many years later, when your father conquered the throne of Camelot, the Kingdom was on its knees… Malign sorcery roamed free through the land raising havoc. In an attempt to stop the chaos, your father gathered some wizards and sorceress to help in his quest. They pretended to be loyal to the King and the Old Religion, but they were far from that. They were as evil as the rest, and unscrupulously betrayed the Religion, its teachings, its gods and goddesses…" _

"_They betrayed your parents… They betrayed us all..." _

Soft steps on the grass alerted him that someone was close, yet he did not turn. He did not feel like speaking to anyone.

When the unwelcomed visitor was in range of his peripheral line of sight, he grunted inwardly. It was Gwynn. Possibly the last person he wanted to see now…

The night when she had disclosed her secret came to him unsolicited, almost like a vengeful memory. He had accused _her_ of being a sorceress… He had almost _looked down _on her for being… magical.

Embarrassment was the first of a long list of disturbing emotions that coursed through him like a thunderbolt. As his humiliation at those memories grew, so did his animosity towards the object of it.

Had she known all along _who_ was him?  
Would she have thought him a hypocrite or—worst—a clueless idiot?  
Was that the reason why she didn't trust him…?

Her soft voice interrupted his internal berating.  
"Ennyny asked me to come and see you…"

The Prince stiffened even further. Pity was something he did not need or wanted, least of all from her.

The frostiness of his stance and lack of acknowledgement of her arrival stopped Gwynn from saying anything else. She stood still, waiting; her eyes fixed on the rolling waves, just like his.

Minutes passed and she didn't move in spite of Arthur's silent wishes for her to go away. He wanted to be left alone… But apparently her unexpected invasion of his privacy was an integral part of the nightmare in which he was trapped.

Maybe he could expedite her departure by asking what she was truly doing there.  
"Did she say why?"

Gwynn shivered at his unreserved coldness and turned to look at him. His profile was taut; his jaw clenched. His posture only spoke of hardly controlled emotions.

Her heart shrunk with the keen intuition her presence was not wanted. He looked so tormented…

"I have learned from a very young age not to question Ennyny." She sighed. "I did not ask."

Something in her tone seemingly placated the Prince a bit, enough at least to make him turn to face her. The Princess repressed a gasp at the intensity of the cerulean eyes, which burned into hers with so many conflicting feelings it made her almost dizzy.

_Tell me the truth Finnabair … Do you think me a hypocrite or still an ignorant fool as you called me? Have you come to gloat?_

The Princess swallowed. His anguish was so palpable she could almost feel it physically… What might have happened? Why was he so troubled, and why had Ennyny asked her to come to him?

"Are you all right?"

Arthur looked at her from the distance of his resentment. Her eyes were clear and genuinely concerned. Either she did not know of his predicament or she was the best pretender he'd ever met.

Adding to his misery, Ennyny's words kept coming to him unrelentingly: _"You cannot blame your father now. He is but a shadow of the man he was… He blames himself for the death of your mother and blames everyone with magic as well. He seeks relief for his pain in his harsh actions… but his conscience haunts him even more for that."_

His voice was colder than ice.  
"No."

Fear crept through Gwynn's spine… He was far away. Unreachable. And she was totally clueless of the reason. Still she had to try…  
"Would you like to talk about it?"

The remote, unapproachable expression on the magnificent blue eyes did not falter as the Prince internal hell continued spinning full speed, fueled by the recollection of the previous disclosure at the manor's kitchen.

"_The King's pain will never go away, nor will his regrets. His remorse will be his demise, Arthur. You need to know this. And you need to be prepared…"_

How could he talk about _this_?  
How could he put all this wretchedness into words?  
His world was crumbling down on him… Everything he knew was no more.

The single syllable cut the air like a blade once again._  
_"No."

The Princess sighed in defeat. Her hand was itching to flatten his brow, stubbornly knitted in bitterness, but she did not dare.  
"I will leave you then, my lord."

The sad farewell struck a nerve… He might not have wanted her there at the beginning, but when the words of Ennyny once again echoed in his tortured mind, the mere thought of Gwynn leaving made him irrationally dejected.

"_You can put your guard down here, Arthur Pendragon. A great destiny awaits you. To reach it, however, you will have to follow your heart_… _You have a good heart, my Prince, listen to it." _

Before she could move completely out of his reach, the Prince's arm shot out to grab hers. It was brusquer than intended, but he was not—by a long shot—in complete control of his actions. Gwynn knew that and berated herself for not being able to repress a wince when his fingers closed on her bruised forearm.

Just as she had feared, Arthur read her reaction wrongly and let her go as if the contact had burnt him, immediately turning away.

His initial desperate gesture—and subsequent defeated retreat—felt like a stab on the Princess' heart. Her mighty warrior was deeply hurting… and did not know how to ask for help…

A shadow of a smile brushed her lips as tears clouded her eyes. She wanted… No. She _needed_ to make sure he knew he would_ never_ have to ask her…, whatever the reasons for his grief might be.

Moving closer, she gently put soft fingers on his perfect chin, forcing him to look at her. He did, albeit reluctantly.

"Arthur, please…" She smiled hesitantly. "It was my bruises, not you…"

It was apparent that he was still walking the edge, and Gwynn could sense it. His slight nod, however, gave her the necessary opening and she weaved her fingers with his, remaining at his side.

After a long while of both silently looking at the hypnotic dance of the sea, Arthur's fingers became alive again and he tightened the hold on her hand. Gwynn sighed softly in relief… Whatever the conundrum, there was hope…

* * *

Servants were already around doing chores when Merlin was roused by the noises of the waking house. Slightly confused about his whereabouts, he had a wonderful flash back of his time in Eleara where he had been tended par to Arthur…

Stretching comfortably, he smiled… thinking that he could easily get used to it. Whether Eleara or Caerfyrddin, the respite from his chores was always welcomed.

Following the smell of food, he found his way back to the kitchen. Ennyny was there and so was Wledyr. Both women greeted him warmly and began fussing around him with his breakfast.

Yes. He could _definitely_ get used to this…

"Your time will come, my boy."

Having momentarily forgotten Ennyny's powers, Merlin's cheeks blushed furiously. But she laughed, adding to his embarrassment, and gently grabbed his arm.  
"It's all right, my boy. Sit. Eat your food… "

By then anyway, his curiosity had been picked. Biting a chunk of the still warm bread, he was about to ask something when the lady continued with a mischievous smile.  
"Having been born blind has its advantages, my friend. Besides…" She paused to handle him some cheese. "When one has lived as long as I have, one learns quite a lot about human reactions and feelings… Most people are not as different from each other as they'd like to think they are…"

The young warlock pondered the explanation, silently agreeing with it. Having to hide his true identity had taught him a great deal as well. He had learned, for instance, that people were indeed quite predictable in the way they reacted to some particular events and/or knowledge…

_Like how they either fear or hate that which they cannot understand…_

An appreciative smile lighted up his sleepy features. He'd never thought about it, and perhaps he should have…

Speaking of people…  
"Where is everyone?"

"Up and about" Ennyny smiled, signaling the window.

Stretching his neck—because he was _not _about to move away from his food just yet—Merlin could see Arthur and Gwynn in the distance, holding hands and watching the ocean. What would they be doing there?

Assuming that they'd be simply dealing with the recent developments, the warlock went back avidly to his breakfast when Ennyny's voice sounded in his head.

"_I told your Prince that he was born of magic…"_

The silent message—and more specifically the _content_ of it—made him choke violently, forcing the milk to spill through his nose.  
"What?"

The enigmatic smile of the lady did not help much to settle him, and neither did the sudden disappearance of Wledyr, whose apparent clue to leave the room was precisely as soon as the milk started coming out of his nose.

"_He has to know."_

It was a conclusive assessment, not a mere opinion. Before he could even think of something to say, Ennyny decided to speak out loud again.

"Uther did not deceive Ygraine. They were both deceived. However Uther kept too many secrets from his son and Arthur now knows the truth." She paused at his strong coughing. "Are you Ok?"

Trying to compose himself as quickly as he could, Merlin answered, still chocking a bit.  
"Yes…" He cleared his throat. "I am… How come …"

"I am afraid Uther's regrets will eventually drive him mad… and the Prince needs to be prepared."

It made sense. Lots of it.  
The wizard remained silent, vaguely remembering Gaius' reluctance to disclose old facts... And he wondered once again if the trip to this land—and to Ennyny, more exactly—was indeed pure coincidence or downright fate.

Still, he worried about his friend… He looked through the window again. Neither the Prince, nor Gwynn had moved. And they were not speaking either.

"Does she know?"

"It is not for us to tell her."

Was that so? What about the prophecy then? What would Arthur do? His anxiety was climbing. What had started as a wonderful day of pampering was rapidly turning into a nightmare of secrets, magic and anguish.

A disheartening forecast, for sure. Suddenly, his warm milk seemed to be the only available comfort at the moment. He took another sip.  
"What is going to happen with them?"

To his surprise, the old lady shrugged her shoulders.  
"That, I do not know…"

Another blurt of cough caught him unaware and amidst his renewed choking, Merlin seriously pondered whether drinking or eating while talking with Ennyny was actually safe.  
"But… but… but I thought you…"

"Yes, I_ am _a seer and I also know of the prophecy to which you are referring." She touched his arm. "Are you always this clumsy while eating my boy?"

The wizard eyebrows shot up. He owned up the fact that he was, generally speaking, a bit clumsy. However, didn't the lady realize that her disclosures were a bit… unsettling?

"Merlin" The old lady interrupted his upcoming reply. "A prophecy can _only_ be fulfilled by the people involved in it. Neither you nor I can do anything about Arthur's and Finnabair's decisions…"

"But… but I thought that…"

"Their decision ultimately depends on their feelings for each other… And you know very well that we cannot manipulate feelings."

The young warlock frowned, between confused and disheartened.  
"Does this mean that the prophecy can go unfulfilled?"

"Unfortunately, yes Merlin. _Any_ prophecy can go unfulfilled."

His demeanor was sinking by the minute… Her not-so-subtle last sentence clearly indicated that the lady also knew his fears: that the prophecy about _his own_ destiny might remain unfulfilled.

Desolation flooded him, and surmising his thoughts, Ennyny shook her head.  
"Merlin… We seers only foresee and foretell _potential_ futures… We prophesy what can or may happen… But we have no saying on what _will_ happen… Do you understand the difference, my dear?"

He nodded, still unsure, and she continued.  
"Finnabair's grandmother was a much more powerful seer than I am, being a direct descendant of the Morrigans… Which I sense you know already." Without waiting for an answer, she carried on. "Fedelm was the one who foretold that Albion would be born when the houses of the dragon and the crow were united… When the best son of Camelot married a direct descendant of the Silures... But, she died before either Finnabair or even Arthur were even born…"

A cold fear crept through Merlin's back… He hadn't thought of that, yet it was entirely possible that the prophecy could have been speaking of the union of _other _royals… That neither Arthur nor Gwynn were the ones predestined for…

The sweet voice of the lady interrupted his darkening thoughts, alas only confirming them.  
"Not only it is possible that the prediction was about some other royals… But even if it is about Arthur and Finnabair, it nonetheless may or may not be fulfilled… If it is, then the great Albion described by the prophecy will be born. If it is not, then something else will happen, which has not been foretold yet."

Now the warlock understood. It had to do with something Kilgharrah had also said once regarding things that might come to pass, but would not _necessarily_ come to pass…

It came down to choices._ Life_ was full of choices and each choice corresponded to a path.

He wondered what his friend was feeling… How was Arthur reacting to the truth of his past, and most importantly, what he was planning to do...

"The Prince needs to forgive his father first, so he can move on with his life. If Arthur holds rancor against Uther, his heart will be corrupted and he will not be what the prophecy calls Camelot's _best son_. In any case, we cannot do anything about it. Whatever path the Prince chooses to follow must be his own."

Before he could react, Ennyny grabbed his arm.  
"My boy, we cannot interfere. We can only provide the truth. Everything else must be left up to them… It is very important you understand this. If we interfere, we will be disobeying the primal rule of the Old Religion… We do not, ever, tamper with free will."

Merlin swallowed hard. As much as he cared and respected his charge, Arthur's temper was usually a very bad advisor for the Prince and he feared what the royal could do. Although the Prince had proven over and over again to be a much better man than Uther, at the end of the day the king was his father… And the warlock knew Arthur had looked up to him his entire life…

And then there was the worst part… Uther had had the chance to disclose the truth once, under the sword of his son, and had chosen not to. Merlin shivered inwardly while imagining what his friend might have been going through…

Then again, Ennyny was right. Whatever happened, Arthur needed to prove himself worthy of the title so he could fulfill the prophecy. The question was… would he be able to?

The sweet voice in his head once again halted his thoughts.  
_"Arthur has faith in you, Merlin. You should show him the same courtesy."_

"He does?"

The question was so spontaneous that brought up Ennyny's fresh laugh; she then chose to speak out loud again.  
"Of course you know that… What I think you do not know, however, is exactly _how much_ Arthur trusts you, Merlin. But you will…"

Feeling a bit more relaxed, the warlock chuckled and went back to his breakfast realizing he had been given a very important lesson about the powers he had been granted with and the rules that came with them.

Nevertheless, the prospect that he might or might not come to be the powerful wizard of Camelot did not settle entirely well with him. Of course, Ennyny sensed that too.

"I wouldn't worry too much about that, my dear boy. There is not much we can do at the moment but to trust the most powerful magic of all …"

Once again, the warlock did not have time to voice his confusion because the old lady explained first.  
"_Love_, Merlin. Love can achieve things no other power on Earth can."

_Oh… that._

"Yes… _That._ And who says that fate and coincidences are mutually exclusive after all?" She winked unexpectedly.

When Merlin choked on his food for the third time in a row, he decided that having breakfast with Ennyny was definitely a safety hazard, and could not help but to laugh with her.

"Well then, now that's settled, I need to talk to you about something equally important: you need to go to the caves under Bryn Myrddin. There is someone there with whom you ought to speak."

* * *

"When I was a child I thought that if I looked at the ocean long enough I would be able to see a mermaid. I used to do this for hours then…"

Arthur blinked repeatedly, trying to reconnect with reality. They had been standing in silence for such a long time, he had completely lost track of his surroundings.

Amazingly, her company had been able to slow down almost to a halt the infernal carrousel burning in his mind... Either that or his brain had stopped working out of pure exhaustion, which was also a possibility.

Nevertheless, her totally out-of-the-blue comment made him momentarily forget his predicament.  
"Did you ever see one?"

She shook her head.  
"No… No matter how hard I tried…"

The Prince turned to her this time. Her eyes were still trained in the infinite horizon of the water; the coastal breeze had managed to dishevel some of her rebel hair out of the braid and the flying strands shone almost red under the morning sun. The image of the little red-haired girl from the paint in Gwynn's quarters came to his mind immediately, finally bringing a shadow of a smile to his face.

"Maybe they were jealous of your beauty and preferred to remain hidden…"

Not even Arthur could fathom where that silly comment came from… It just made its way to his lips as if he had been talking to the little girl of the portrait.

Gwynn turned around with the brightest smile he had ever seen.  
"That must have been it!" She giggled. "I wished I had thought about it back then…"

Leave it to this Princess to know how to tilt the field to an unexpected angle. After his words had been out, Arthur had expected a bashful Princess to coyly look at him, and either thank him for the compliment or admonish him for the vain flattery. Once again, however, she had unhinged him completely.

Feeling the bitterness slowly draining from his body, the Prince looked down shaking his head and chuckling softly. Gwynn's clear pearls of laughter echoed his own and she tightened her grip on his fingers reassuringly.

Although severely shattered, Arthur's state of mind was still lucid enough to recognize the true extent of what she had done for him… Gwynn had shared his misery without saying a word, without asking, and without judging… She had simply _shared_ the moment of absolute anguish, selflessly lending her soothing company. And then, when she had deemed that his mourning had been enough, she had chosen another one of her seemingly endless list of antics to bring him back.

After a moment, he looked up again and grabbed both her hands in his. His eyes were so blue she vaguely thought they could shame the sky.

"Thank you."

Nothing else was needed and she understood all too well. The fire in his gaze, however, was doing things to her stomach, and besides, she couldn't shake the acute intuition that his pride should be rescued from further beating.

Whatever was that had upset the proud Camelot Prince, it had to be something obviously beyond anything he had experienced before; and Gwynn instinctively knew that once the distress had passed, Arthur would most likely berate himself for his momentary weakness. Thus, attempting to add some levity to the situation, she tried to tease her way out of it.

"Actually, I should thank _you _for the suggestion, my lord... I spent all my youth years wondering why the mermaids have denied me of their presence and…"

But he would not have it and pulled her close, interrupting her.  
"No, Gwynn." He stressed his words, making sure the message went across loud and clear. "Thank. You."

Tears came unsolicited to her eyes making them shine even brighter, and she swallowed hard trying to stop them…

_How could he be so wonderful? _

After everything he had done for her, she was absolutely convinced that she would never be able to repay him… Thus, being able to give him something back—even if in a small measurement—felt absolutely rewarding. So much so, that she had to bite her tongue to avoid thanking_ him_ in return and ruining the moment.

Lightheartedness forgotten, an all-consuming tenderness enveloped her and standing on the tip of her toes, she lightly kissed his cold cheek.  
"You are most welcome, my lord."

The sheer gentleness of the gesture made Arthur's heart skip a beat, and another myriad of conflicting thoughts danced through his brain once again, although this time they were only about _her._ This woman would be the death of him… Only just moments after having been the much-needed balm to his desolation, she had managed to arouse something almost… violent within him.

An unbending need for catharsis overcame him as his bottled up tension desperately clamored for release. Usually—after an overwhelming experience—a vicious training was his best way to restore his spirit. Currently deprived of that option, however, his strained emotions were looking for other venues… brutally awakened by the scorching mark her soft lips had left on his skin.

His eyes went to her face… her mouth… her provocative neck he had yet to taste…  
Suddenly, the mere thought of touching her threatened to break the dam of hardly contained passion.

Clear green eyes were looking at him steadily; completely clueless of the imminent danger in which her innocent action had put her. Perhaps it was better to leave things in the friendly zone for a while, at least until he could rein on his emotions once again…

Not even daring to kiss her hand in fear of what any further contact with her skin could unleash, the Prince breathed in forcefully, letting her hands free.

"Walk with me?"

After a couple of yards towards the patch of forest behind the stables, Arthur noticed her slight limp. He had forgotten and, of course, she had not complained. Cursing inwardly, he slowed his strides.  
"How's your ankle?"

"I guess it is fine."

Glad to have found a new topic of conversation, Gwynn began lifting her skirt to look at the offended foot and changed her mind half way, letting it fall again. As clueless as she admitted herself to be in the matters of sensuality, she still vividly remembered the stern clench of his jaw when he had inspected her leg.

There was no need to taunt him now. She shrugged her shoulders instead.  
"Still hurts a bit though… But Wledyr confirmed your diagnosis: it's not broken."

The Prince nodded, grudgingly recalling the adorable calf that had driven him mad the previous night. The image was not helping and he shook his head to dismiss it.

"And how is your head?"

Surprised by the question, and having temporarily forgotten the injury to which she was referring, Arthur answered the first thing that came to him; his always-handy sarcasm making a full come back.

"A blazing hell, thanks for asking."

By then, Gwynn had surmised that Arthur and Ennyny had spoken. And although fully aware that it was not her place to pry, it was nonetheless clear that whatever the old lady had said to the Prince, it had shaken him to the core.

All of a sudden, she realized that—strictly speaking—the internal inferno Arthur was speaking off was probably her fault. He was there because of _her_; he had met Ennyny because of _her_.

The Princess' sharp intake of air made Arthur immediately regret his rude reply. She did not deserve that… But before he could think of a suitable apology, she spoke again, her voice sad and defeated.

"I am so sorry, Arthur... I am sorry you had to come here…"

The last thing the Prince needed at the moment was to deal with her sorrow… or her unwarranted guilt for that matter. _She _was not to blame. _She_ shouldn't have to apologize.

Berating himself even further for his tactless reaction, he blamed his father once again. Not only his world had been turned upside-down by discovering the lies he had been told all his life, but he was unwillingly hurting Gwynn, of all people.

"Please, Princess, don't…"

But she did not listen.  
"I am sorry you've met Ennyny, and I'm sorry for whatever she had told you… I am…"

In an attempt to make her stop, he moved closer, towering over her and pinning her to the ground with his brazen eyes. Still apprehensive of touching her, however, he simply whispered over her face.  
"Don't…Please, just don't."

_Don't make me kiss you to silence you…_

Even though the words were left unsaid, something in his darkened eyes forced Gwynn to shut up. Swallowing hard with big and startled eyes, she nodded in acquiescence.

They stood there, inches apart and wondering about each other although for completely different reasons. After a couple of minutes, Arthur regained his wits enough to back away and continued walking towards the forest. The mention of the old lady was a perfect segue… and he wanted some answers anyway.

"Who is Ennyny?"

Somehow Gwynn had been expecting the question. After all, she had been only partially truthful about her adoptive grandmother and the Prince deserved a full disclosure. She wished the answer were simple though.

"Ah… A difficult question if there ever was one…" She inhaled, trying to compose herself and looking for the right angle. "She was a good friend of my grandmother, who I never knew. My mother used to come here quite often when I was a child, always bringing me with her. We stayed no more than two or three days at the time…"

She paused again, pensive, and smiled tenderly.  
"For many years I thought Ennyny was my grandmother. By the time I was old enough to understand the difference, she already felt like a grandmother to me…"

They continued walking slowly and in silence. The Prince was seemingly pleased with the answer, or so she thought. The next time he spoke, however, it was not to ask but rather to state.

"She is not a fortune teller."

Of course… Gwynn also reckoned he would have questions regarding Ennyny's powers. And even though this was even _more_ difficult to explain, she wanted to appease Arthur's doubts… The doubts Ennyny had pointed out the previous night when meeting the Prince. The truth was the only logical answer.

"No. She is a seer."

Against her expectations, the answer did not seem to surprise the Prince. Rather, Arthur was thinking of the paradox… A 'blind seer' seemed like an oxymoron; and yet, in some way, it had so much logic it defeated the contradiction.

"Can she read minds?"

In spite of the gravity of the conversation, Gwynn couldn't repress a giggle. The old lady always gave that impression.  
"She says she cannot, but who knows…"

They had stopped under a large oak and the Princess absentmindedly examined the bark while thinking of her next words.  
"She says that her blindness helps her to better 'see' the soul of the people, without being misled by externalities."

Turning to the Prince, her eyes locked in his.  
"Whatever the case, she has an extremely keen perception to understand what others are thinking… or feeling. When I was a child, she told me that the gods had given her a gift better than the sight… because she could see what others could not. I've never questioned her ever since… "

His eyes were unreadable when he looked away and Gwynn could not fathom what he was thinking. She moved her gaze back to the tree, somehow disappointed. The Prince of Camelot was obviously back in office…

What else could she do to help him? Or better yet… Was there _anything_ she could do to help him, actually? She began to seriously doubt it.

Several more minutes passed and the Prince hadn't said another word. If Gwynn had been a bit curious about what had transpired between her adoptive grandmother and Arthur, she was not longer so. Whatever had managed to shake the unflappable warrior of Camelot this way, she was better off not knowing…

Maybe she should just leave him alone… Moving closer to him, she touched his arm to get his attention.

"I am just sorry that our visit to Caerfyrddin has brought you so much anguish… I wish there was something I could do to help…"

Her confused expression hurt Arthur even more… Why was he doing this to her? Perhaps it was a good thing that he had given her his word of not marrying her. At the moment, he could only foresee misery and hopelessness in his future. And she didn't deserve that…

Doing the best he could to regain some of his lost composure, Arthur tried to fake a smile and failed pitifully in his intent.  
"You've done more than enough, my lady. I am just afraid that I cannot be a good company at the moment."

Opening her mouth to object to such obviously wrong assertion, Gwynn changed her mind a second later and shut up. This was not the time for pointless discussions.

The gesture was so atypical that instantly caught Arthur's attention and brought him out of his gloomy thoughts. After all, seeing this Princess reining on her sharp tongue was certainly _not_ a common occurrence.

Before she turned away, he grabbed her hand.  
"What was that you were about to say?"

Blushing profusely, she smiled almost apologetically.  
"Nothing… really."

"Gwynn…"

There was a small hint of amusement in his tone… Something she had sorely missed the entire day. Perchance there was some hope left that morning…

"All right." She breathed in to gain impulse. "I was about to say that you are _always_ good company to me… No matter what you think."

And before those words could fully settle in her interlocutor, she disclaimed all at once.  
"And it was not my intention to argue your point… just to dismiss your notion, my lord."

His brow frowned slightly but the shadowy haze that had dimmed his eyes seemed to have lifted a bit. Notwithstanding, he was still unreadable.

"Is that true?"

"Of course it is true!" Her quick reply sounded almost offended. How could he doubt it? "You have proven to be an exceptional friend and I…"

"No…" A glimpse of a mischievous light appeared in his clearer eyes. "The part where you said you had no intention to argue my point…"

Finally… They were coming to an understanding.

"You are insufferable my lord." She admonished jokingly, barely suppressing a chuckle.

"So you say, my lady."

It was a good opening—if there was ever going to be one considering the current state of affairs—for something else she wanted him to know, and without wasting too much time, blurted out.

"Regarding Ennyny… I know she is a bit… strange… But I am sure you've also noticed how sweet and caring she is…"

At last, a small smile appeared on the Prince's severe face at her choice of words… _A bit strange _was a quite mild way to describe the old lady.

"…And whatever she does or says it is always for the best. You must believe that."

Inhaling forcefully, Arthur nodded, and a sardonic smirk marred his handsome face.  
"I believe that, my lady… It is just that I recently discovered that _other _things in which I've also believed all my life were… Well, _lies_."

The palpable pain and anger that enveloped his words hit her tender heart point blank and she moved even closer, tightening her grip on his fingers.  
"I am very sorry Arthur… I wish there was something I could do."

The silence that followed soon became deafening on her ears, and the brooding gaze of the Prince made her feel cold again…

And it was then when, amidst his enduring confusion, Ennyny's cryptic closing argument came to Arthur like an epiphany.

"_There are always two sides of each story, Prince. And many times we can only see one, or we want to see only one… And we chose to believe what we see. That does not make the other side less real… Not for us… and certainly not for those who believe in it. You've always known this, whether you are ready to accept it right now or not. Look around you, my boy… you've even experienced it yourself…" _

A smile curved his lips but did not reach his eyes.  
"Actually… There is a matter I'd like to discuss with you… Although I'd have to ask you something first."

Distrusting a little that aloof smile, Gwynn nodded a bit unsure… What would he ask of her? Nonetheless, her offer was on the table and he had called her bluff, so to speak.

The words of the seer, spoken as he skedaddled out of the manor's kitchen, held a promise that brought an open, albeit melancholic, smile to finally blossom in the Prince's face.

"_Anger and confusion will fade. Open your mind and open your heart, Arthur, and your peace will return before long… even if right now you fear this anguish will never leave you…"_

"I remember that in our first ride in Eleara you voiced a…_quite interesting _formed opinion of Camelot and its Royal House… And I wonder if you still think that…"

Heat abruptly replaced the previous coldness, and crimson shades rapidly tinted her pale cheeks. She too remembered very well what she'd said and wished she hadn't. Not to _him, _and definitely _not_ like that. Her prejudices had blinded her and she had believed what better suited her needs back then.

Utterly embarrassed, she felt like running away when he finished, still smiling.

"I need you to be as honest with me as you were when you did not know who I was… And I need you to tell me what made you say that about my father… and _me_."

After the several times she had verbalized her desire to help him, Gwynn surmised that fleeing the scene out of sheer mortification was not longer an option. One day she would have to learn to control her tongue… Right now, she had to face the consequences of not doing so. The knot in her throat gave her voice a raspy sound.

"Why…" She wetted her lips nervously. "Why are you asking me this now, my lord?"

The Prince's stepped closer and, with that intimate gesture that had apparently become habit, moved an errant strand behind her ear. His eyes were completely clear now, though a bit sad; and his smile had turned softer.

"Because it just occurred to me that we both have been able to forgive each other for our … lies about who we were, and hopefully grown out of our own preconceptions of each other…"

There was a pause and Gwynn gathered that he was speaking of her powers… and his Kingdom. Where was he going with that?

"Go on…"

The underlying humility of his next request caught her completely by surprise and struck her heart again, robbing her of her breath.  
"… I need you to help me remember who I am… because it seems that everything I've known, is now no more…"


	34. Chapter 34: Of memorable sunsets

SAME DISCLAIMER AS IN CHAPTER 1

I meant for this chapter to go up on Valentine's Day, but missed the target by one day.  
In any case, I hope everyone had had a wonderful one! :-)

With so many plot lines running together in the story, the chapters are getting systematically longer.  
This one in particular is a very (very) long chapter. So much, I've divided it in two parts (both included).

I just hope it flows easily enough to capture your attention in spite of its length.  
In any case, you'll be the judge…

* * *

_**Chapter 34: Of memorable sunsets**_

**_Part I_**

Lescaut was heading out of the visitors' quarters where the Camelot knights were housed as purposely as his pitiful cane allowed him. He had spoken at length with Sir Leon and his comrades and related the message from the Prince. The knights had been suspicious at first and only after he had quoted the Prince _verbatim,_ they had finally believed him.

It was then apparent to the young captain that the knights of Camelot had a very specific protocol to transmit orders. And—also apparently—that the construction of the message in itself might have had some hidden meaning that assured the soldiers the order had come, indeed, from their commander.

He couldn't help but to feel admiration for the Prince and his men. Not in vain Camelot was a military force to be reckoned with, and its royal commander—though young—was obviously far more than a strong warrior...

Although Lescaut still didn't particularly like the Prince, he had been learning to respect him during the past days both as a warrior and as a leader. Not to mention, there was obviously a high likelihood that this royal could end up being his King, if his mistress' feelings were anything to go by.

After the Camelot knights were appeased, a more friendly conversation on the developments of the previous night and the Princess' abduction had followed, as well as some debate on the best way to execute the Prince's orders once the Leoness' main battalions returned to the Citadel.

Immerse in his thoughts, the young captain realized his legs had taken him back to Helene's quarters without even noticing it. He stood in front of her door, between surprised and frustrated. Couldn't he be more pathetic?

In any case, Ruther's guard requesting his presence in the throne room had interrupted their morning talk, and he had promised her to resume the account another time. Furthermore, there were unfinished businesses with this lady he needed to put to rest once and for all… and sooner rather than later. This afternoon was as good—or bad—as any…

* * *

After his conversation with Gwynn—which was cut somehow short when Wledyr came looking for her—and in a much lighter mood, Arthur ambulated the grounds looking for something to do. Although obviously the smart course of action at the moment, the prospect of waiting doing nothing until receiving news from Lescaut and his own Knights did not please him. Passiveness was something the Camelot Prince was certainly not accustomed to.

While checking out the stables and the horses, he found a small shack next to one of the stalls. It was filled with all sort of old weaponry, most of which was useless and rusted, with ancient layers of dust on it. In any case, weapons always interested him and he engaged in a more thorough search, his curiosity picked.

The hunt proved successful when he found an old longbow with several quivers of arrows. Having used the crossbow all his adult life, he had not had a regular bow in his hands since he had been a child. Amused, he thought that the old 'longbow' of his childhood would scarcely qualify as such now given its short length.

Most of the armies had already moved away from hand bows towards crossbows, and Camelot's was no different. Arthur knew that the reason had more to do with practicality than anything else. Even though good longbows were able to achieve comparable accuracy to the average crossbows—and in top of that had an even faster shooting rate—the reality was that crossbows could be used effectively after only a week of training. On the other hand, the Prince knew by his own experience that a comparable skill with a longbow could take years of training to develop the necessary strength to draw the bow… Not to mention another couple of years of practice to use it with any significant skill.

His hands caressed the beautiful carvings on the yew and he tried the tension of the bowstring. It was made of silk and still good. Amazing... A child-like awestruck smile lighted up his face.

This had been one of his favorite weapons while growing up… Using it properly was almost an art form…  
_Would he still be able to…_

Grabbing two quivers and the bow he headed out of the stables and turned towards the back, looking for a good practice range. He found a place far enough from the most transited areas and set up an old cartwheel as a makeshift target.

Starting at about a hundred yards, he tried his muscle memory… He'd almost forgotten how much strength was needed to pull that bowstring… as well as the unmistakable twang of its snap.

The arrow flew true and hit its mark with a solid thud, dead center. His smile widened… He hadn't forgotten how to shoot it seemed. Not only that, but he had finally found something to do with his time. It had always been easy for him to clear his thoughts while training…

Disclosing some of the truth from his past to Gwynn had replenished his previously drained-out soul. Her tender understanding and unassuming wisdom had put things into perspective once again.

The conditions of his birth, however, had remained his own… Somehow, he hadn't been able to bring himself to tell her that. Not yet at least…

Nevertheless, he had shared his father's prior involvement with magic, the betrayal of the wizards, and the King's subsequent paranoia… And of course, the deception that went along all that…

"_You cannot change your past." _She had calmly said_. "You cannot change your father's beliefs more than I can change Ruther's cruelty… But your father's misdeeds do not define you any more than Ruther's define me… I think I have finally gotten to know you my lord, and I am as sure of that as of the air I breathe… You should not ever doubt it."_

And with that simple statement, she had made clear how her opinion about his royal persona had changed. He grinned and shot again. The hundred yards were not challenging anymore and he moved about fifty paces back.

Another arrow hit the center, while the archer smiled at the memory of the luminous green eyes that had accompanied another profound observation from Finnabair.

"_One of my tutors once told me that every flower… every beautiful tree lives and thrives because of what it's buried underneath…"_ She had added_. "Whatever you think of your past now… it has make you the man you are Arthur… It has all worked together to bring you to this very moment… And this is the moment you can choose to make everything anew…"_

Her words had left him speechless. The fact that a magical being like her had changed her views so much, and rather than bitterly condemning his father's actions—and without condoning them either—was able to see beyond all that with hope and faith gave him an entire new perspective about… well, _everything_.

At the end of the day, the King was only human and he had done the best he could with the tools he had been handed... literally and figuratively.

Forgiving his father would not change what had been done, nor would it make it better… Nonetheless, the Prince knew—beyond any doubt now—that _letting go_ of it would certainly broaden his future… and, most importantly, that of his beloved kingdom…

* * *

Meanwhile, Merlin had been looking for his charge throughout the entire property. Apparently, always one-step behind him.

Going to the stables for a second time, a weird combination of _twangs_ and _thuds_ caught his attention and he followed the sounds to finally find Arthur yielding a longbow and hitting bull's-eye shot after shot.

Having never had the chance to see this particular skill of the Prince, Merlin's eyebrows rose in surprise and genuine admiration… Not that he would mention it, of course. His arrogant master did not really need a boost on his already oversized ego… He rolled his eyes, smiling impishly.

"Here you are…"

Arthur aimed again. _Twang… thud!_ Another bull's eye.

"Is there anything you need Merlin?" The Prince only briefly looked at him before picking another arrow from the quiver.

"Just wondering how are you doing…"

The question was so unusual and out of place that Arthur turned again, his brow frowned in confusion.  
"Since when do you…"

"_What_…" Merlin corrected immediately, "I meant _what_ were you doing…"

The Prince kept looking at him with that disconcerted look he wore whenever he thought his servant was being particularly odd… or stranger than usual. Shaking his head, he went back to his shooting.

"I don't know Merlin… You tell me… I am pretty sure even _you_ might have noticed what I am doing…"

The consuetudinary sarcasm was back, as well as the pretended annoyance. Everything seemed to indicate that Arthur was back to his usual self. The warlock smiled.

"I see that we are back to normal then…"

Although barely muttered, the words reached the Prince's ears and all of the sudden Merlin found himself with an arrow pointed to his chest.

"You were saying…" The royal eyebrow was up and the lethal smirk already in place…

"I … was saying that you are back to your normal… training routine."

Arthur looked at his servant with quizzical eyes for a moment, as if wondering, and then chuckled returning his attention to the target.

For a moment there, the warlock couldn't shake the feeling that his master knew far more about him than he let out… as absurd as the thought was. But he dismissed the notion quickly and continued with the _real_ reason for his interruption. He would try ambiguity first and worry about elaborating later if that did not work…

Not that he was expecting it to work anyway… Not with Arthur in good spirits at least… Somehow a gloomy and uninterested demeanor in his master would have probably suited his own interests better for what he was about to ask.

"Er… Actually…. Ennyny suggested that I should go someplace tomorrow to visit an old acquaintance of hers… and I was wondering if you may have any problem with it…"

_Twang… thud!_ The arrow hit the mark once more and this time Merlin could not help the comment.  
"Wow… You _are_ good…"

The trademark cocky grin of the Prince appeared almost immediately, while Arthur wondered what would be that Ennyny wanted from Merlin this time.

"_I learned from a very young age not to question Ennyny…" _Gwynn had said. Perhaps no one should…

Still smiling, he lifted his bow and aimed carefully...  
"If Ennyny asked you…."

And released the arrow for another masterful hit.  
"… then you should go." He finished, turning around serious and nodding his acceptance to his servant.

Merlin's eyebrows went up in undisguised surprise… It was not like Arthur to be so permissive without at least a painful inquisition and all sorts of threats in the middle… However, he was not going to wait for the winds to change on that. Whatever was that Ennyny had said—apart from disclosing the truth—it seemed to be working on his favor, so he would better enjoy it while it lasted.

"All right then… I will leave tomorrow morning, before dawn. She said I should be back in time for supper though… It's supposed to be fairly close."

Arthur nodded again, preparing another shot.  
"Fine… Make sure to stay out of trouble."

The young wizard smiled. That was the Prince's way of telling him to be careful, even if Arthur would never admit it as such. He turned to leave when the unmistakable banter in his master's tone stopped him on his tracks.

"Right now, however, I need you to fetch me those arrows from the target…"

Of course… It had been just too good to betrue. The thoroughbred spoiled brat _had _to have the last word one way or another. Merlin rolled his eyes and started walking towards the cartwheel, mumbling all sort of epithets applicable to his charge. The royal voice warned mockingly from the distance, making him smile yet again.

"You'd better shut up Merlin… Remember that I have a very good aim … and you are within shooting range."

* * *

Helene was resting on a chaise near the window, her gaze looking at the courtyard without actually seeing anything… All her thoughts were concentrated on Lescaut's visit.

She tried to remember the abduction but the memories were fragmented… She had walked in, had seen a hooded figure moved through a door evidently hidden within the walls, and then a piercing pain on her left shoulder had knocked the air out of her lungs. She did not even remember screaming… Although obviously she had, otherwise the Prince would not have found her so quickly.

Then Lescaut had arrived… And although by then the pain had been so strong she had almost fainted, the eyes of the knight were imprinted on her memory. There had been raw fear in those otherwise lethal dark eyes… and something else she could not discern…

And at dawn, when he came back to the Citadel… The episode between them was still confusing in her mind. She might have been imagining it, but for some reason Lescaut seemed different… The way he looked at her… His tight embrace that didn't break for the longest time.

All attitudes really out of Lescaut's customary sober character. Most likely, the fact that the life of the Princess was at risk within her own castle was the reason… Or was it?

Her Princess was well… That was all that matter.  
_However… _

A knock on the door brought her out of her reflections and her heart skipped a beat when the knight walked in, freshly bathed and changed. Helene was sure her cheeks were as red as the tapestry of the chaise. He was so handsome… So… wounded! How come she had not noticed the cane before?

_Did he have a cane before?  
_"You're hurt!"

The soldier smiled meekly.  
"A bit…"

"A bit? Lescaut… you're limping! Please, come and sit! Don't just stand there! When did that happened?"

The captain's smile widened—rare occurrence—at her excitement. He was about to choose the chair in front of her, when he realized she was moving over the chaise to make room for him. His eyes narrowed in confusion… It was not like Helene to…

The same emotions that had run rampant through him during the last couple of hours, however, told him to take what he was offered and do not question.

It was a good decision because by the time he'd made up his mind, Helene was already embarrassed by her actions. It had come naturally to her to invite him on the chaise. Some form of unconscious desire to be near him again, she surmised. But she had never done that before… Would he interpret her actions wrong?

The sharp Captain noticed the myriad of emotions that went through her and before she could regret her invitation and withdraw it he sat down, settling the dilemma.

"What happened?"

"Just a stupid mistake during the fight."  
_While thinking of you…_

"Are you sure you are well?"

"Yes, my lady… I've lost much less blood than you did. I promise. It shall heal even faster than your shoulder… How is it?"

"Very sore… But the physician said that it should heal soon anyway…" She paused briefly. "He… he said you took me to him just on time to prevent more damage…" And blushed profusely under his dark gaze. "I… should thank you..."

"Do not mention it, my lady… It was actually Prince Arthur who find you right away…"

Of course he would say something like that… Adorable, unpresumptuous Lescaut… Always the perfect knight, never asking for recognition… She smiled sweetly in understanding.

"You do not have to be so modest, Lescaut…" Without even thinking, she kissed his cheek. "Thank you nonetheless."

The surprise at her gesture was nothing compared with the burning sensation her lips had left on his skin, and the poor captain had to make a herculean effort to remain impassible. He managed to devoid his face of emotions, but his eyes were blazing with fire. Not trusting his voice at the moment, he only nodded in acknowledgment.

Helene did not know what had come over her to make such bold movement… Then again, and if nothing else, she wanted him to know she truly appreciated him. On the other hand, it was imperative to redirect his attention, as she felt he was seeing through her.

"Now then… aren't you going to finish the account of the events?"

When in top of everything her perfume attacked his nostrils, Lescaut vaguely concluded that he had probably lost more blood than he had thought, as his judgment seemed seriously hindered... Sitting next to her had been a_ very_ bad idea and it was too late to change the arrangement. He inhaled, hoping her closeness would not make him do something stupid…

_Like kissing her…_

Trying with all his might to stop his line of thoughts and his heart for running like a wild horse, he smiled as naturally as his inner turmoil would allow it.

"Of course, my lady. Where were we?"

* * *

Feeling finally at peace with the world… Or at least as much at peace as it could be expected, Arthur decided he needed to speak with Ennyny again. If for no other reason, at least to excuse his less-than-proper flight from the building earlier in the morning.

Wledyr sent him to Ennyny's studio… A sort of a library filled with strange objects, old books and pieces of art.

The old lady was humming some tune while working on a piece of wood. It was then that Arthur noticed the array of wooden-carved pieces that adorned the studio. Flowers, birds and all sorts of figurines had been created by the amazing hands of the blind lady…

The words of Gwynn came back to him: _"She says she can see what others cannot."_  
Indeed… The details of the pieces were absolutely remarkable.

"You are feeling better my Prince, I trust."

Her voice brought him out of his astonished examination and he smiled…  
"I am, my lady. And I have to thank you for it…"

Ennyny put down her work and signaled him to come closer, extending her hand to grab his.  
"You are most welcome Arthur. I knew Finnabair's company would help you."

_Oh…He had actually meant… _

The lady laughed softly.  
"I cannot claim merit for disclosing your past Prince… One way or another you would have come to know it."

"Well…" He chuckled softly at the mix-up. "You did well in both accounts, my lady, and I thank you. I would also like to apologize for my hasty retreat this morning… It was…"

A waving of her hand interrupted him.  
"Heavens, my dear… No need for that. After everything you've learned, needing fresh air was only natural…"

And of course she had _also_ known he had felt asphyxiated… He had to smile again; his thoughts drifting towards the Princess once more.  
_"Ennyny says she cannot read minds, but who knows…"_

"You are very fond of Finnabair."

For obvious reasons, this affirmation did not surprise him. After all, even Merlin knew that…  
"I am… She is… incredible…"

Smiling knowingly, the seer grabbed both his hands, claiming his full attention for her next words.  
"Yes. That, she is." A brief pause followed. "However, you must also know that for all her achievements and intuitive wisdom, Finnabair is still a child in many ways."

Though not entirely shocked by that statement either, the Prince was a bit confused about the exact meaning behind it. Far from clarifying it, however, Ennyny kept speaking in riddles.  
"You will have to be patient, Arthur… She too has to deal with things for which she had not been prepared. She will need you when the time comes, and you will have to be there for her."

Despite being totally clueless of what she'd meant, his answer was prompt, almost impulsive.  
"I will. I promise you, my lady."

But she was not done yet.  
"I know you will my dear Prince… But with regard to Finnabair, you might find that things are not as simple as they seem." And with that more than cryptic declaration, she concluded smiling. "Your heart is pure and unadulterated, Arthur. It will lead you to the great destiny you have been called to fulfill. You will make us all proud."

* * *

The recounting of the events of the rescue had drifted into a discussion about the apparent feelings between the royals. Lescaut was convinced that they would get married and Leoness would be rid of Ruther for good… Helene had agreed… though somehow more reluctantly…

In truth, and as much as she wanted to believe otherwise, her heart was heavy with fears of insurmountable difficulties preventing a happy union between the royals, but could not offer details to the captain as it was her mistress' secret. Thus, she just chose some ambiguous doubts like the stubbornness of both, the fact that their tempers would always get in the way of any compromise and things like that…

Surprisingly, Lescaut had argued that none of those feeble pretexts would be enough to keep them apart, and he seemed quite sure that they were very much in love with each other, based on what he had been able to gather. Helene had never heard Lescaut speak of feelings … much less of love… and even less with such conviction.

It was strange and unsettling altogether… By then, the orangey light of the upcoming sunset had filled the room, giving the place an almost magical appearance. None of them seemed to have realized how relaxed the atmosphere had become and how comfortable they were—for once—in each other's company.

"I never would have guessed you'd be such a romantic, Lescaut…" She spoke without thinking. "You must certainly have enough experience in the matters of the heart…"

As soon as the words were out, she wished the floor would open and swallow her…  
Where had _that_ come from? Her embarrassment so strong she looked away again, crimson from head to toe…

"I am sorry… I did not mean to…"

Chuckling at her mortification, the captain stood up and went for water, serving two goblets and handing one to her. His eyes took on the beautiful gold shining on her blonde curls with the changing light.

"It is all right… Do not trouble yourself…"

Accepting the goblet she drank avidly, more to hide her unrelenting reddening from his burning eyes than out of thirst. Lescaut seemed completely different now and she couldn't grasp the reason why.

Little did she know that was indeed the case…  
Throughout the conversation, the captain had been able to finally see the subtle signs on her demeanor. Although a sworn bachelor, Lescaut had enough experience with the ladies to know when his attentions were welcomed, and it surprised him to no end that he had never noticed Helene's before.

Her adorable blushes and widened eyes spoke volumes of what was in her heart.  
_Could he dare to hope? _

It was true that they had rarely been alone throughout the years, and when the Princess was present both of them had to fulfill their duties. Still, why hadn't he seen it before? Had he misinterpreted her shyness for lack of interests all this time? If so, he should hang for being such an obtuse dimwit.

Maybe the shocking fear of loosing her had finally opened his eyes. Whatever the reason, he was not going to live with the doubts of not knowing any longer.

"As per your underlying question…" He sighed, making a dismissive gesture with his cup. "Only if unrequited love actually qualifies as such…"

She battled her eyelashes in surprise… Lescaut's disposition perturbed her like never before… The events that had transpired over the last hours had been dramatic, for certain… and she might be seeing things where there were none… but one look from those amazing dark eyes and her lungs became unable to intake air… His next words finished the job…

"My turn now..."

A knock on the door came to her rescue just when she thought she would die of mortification. It was one of the royal guards.  
"Sir Lescaut, we've received news of the upcoming arrival of your father. He should be here by dusk."

* * *

"Where is the Princess?" Arthur entered the kitchen looking for Gwynn.

"Most likely perched in her favorite place, waiting for the sunset… as usual."

Wledyr's answer made Merlin to look up and Arthur to frown in puzzlement. Hostess and servant were diligently mending the battered royal clothes.

"Favorite place?"

"There is an alcove in the wall of the cliff, a couple of yards down. No one knew how she discovered it when she was four. I've been told that the entire household went frantic the first time she disappeared until they found her there… And that's been her place ever since…" The blond lady shook her head amused and a whirlwind of disheveled curls danced around her head. "She said she was hiding so she wouldn't scare the mermaids and was hell-bent on seeing one… Figures…"

Ennyny walked in at the moment and smiled, and Arthur had the resolute feeling she knew what he was thinking. The old seer handed a heavy coverlet to the Prince.

"Your turn, your highness. Here, take this. She will be cold. Please bring her back for supper."

The Prince never knew where his boldness came from, but while grabbing the thick comforter from her hands, he leaned and kissed the lady on the cheek. The worst part was that she didn't even seem surprised.

"Thank you." He blushed awkwardly.

"You are welcome, my dear."

Merlin had been curiously watching the scene and he almost fell off his chair at Arthur's gesture. In all the time he'd known the Prince, Arthur never, _ever_ had shown that kind of affection towards anyone…

The voice of the seer sounded in his head, taunting him.  
_"Love, Merlin… Love is the only force to be reckoned with…"_

* * *

After the royal guard left, Helene stood up and walked towards the window, her voice sadder than she intended.  
"You have to leave."

Noticing her disappointed demeanor, a soft smile curved his lips… He couldn't be wrong…  
"But I will be back, I promise."

Unconsciously—and perhaps not so much so—wanting to extend his visit, she turned.  
"What was that you wanted to say?"

_Oh… that. I hope you are up for the challenge, my lady.  
_His deep voice sounded softer than ever… almost velvety to her ears.  
"Well… I was wondering if you have been in love Helene?"

There was a question she would have never expected, least of all from him. What would she tell him? She did not want to lie to him, but disclosing her feelings for _him_ was not an option either. She looked away.

"Yes… I believe I have"

Lescaut's heart started to beat faster. He was unsure whether he would like the answer to the next question, but he had to ask.  
"And do I know this man?"

Praying for him to stop, Helene felt trapped. How long would it take for him to realize what was going on? What would he do then? She tried to find an alternative solution.  
"I guess I could say that you do, my lord."

Paradoxically encouraged by the evasive answer, Lescaut took a step towards her.  
"Who is he?"

"His name does not matter, my lord."

The trembling in her voice made him grab his goblet with so much anxiety his knuckles became white.  
"Why?"

"Because he is impossible to me." She said defiantly, looking intently into his eyes.

Her obvious discomfort only reassured him that he was right… and he swallowed a smile, deciding to play cat and mouse a little longer.  
"How do you know that? Does he know how you feel?"

"No. He doesn't." She swallowed through a parched throat.  
_But he will if you do not stop these foolish questions, you clueless, stubborn man!_

Coming even closer, and with mischievous look in his handsome face, he pushed.  
"Why wouldn't you tell him then?"

"Because _it is_ impossible. He does not know I exist." Helene was very unsettled by then and wanted to finish the conversation at all costs. "And I find this a very personal subject, my lord, so I ask you if we could please talk about something else…"

"Maybe you should tell him…"

That was enough for her. She chinned up very much annoyed.  
"Sir, I think you are toying with me, and I beg you to stop."

The Captain was faced with a terrible dilemma at this point. His honor was commanding him to stop and do her bidding; but he needed an answer… He _had_ to know if her sweet heart was indeed his…

Reaching for her shoulders, he slowly caged her in his arms pressing her fragile frame against his chest as if trying to blend their bodies. It was easy for him to find her lips, open and inviting… They were fresh and tempting… just as he had imagined for so, so many years... He kissed her long and passionately, feeling her body melting in his arms.

Helene did not know what was happening. Her knees were giving up and everything except _him_ was rapidly disappearing. She could only feel his mouth over hers, his arms sensually pressing her body… and she still craved for more… She thought she'd heard her own moan of pleasure from a distance, followed perhaps by Lescaut's deep grunt… But the blood ringing in her ears was deafening.

The next thing she would remember about that kiss was Lescaut standing by the door with his stunning eyes reflecting the fiery light of the sunset.  
"You should tell him, Helene… Lest he is an idiot, I am sure he'd return your feelings…"

And he was gone leaving one trembling lady in waiting more confused and perturbed than ever…

**

* * *

**

**_Part II_**

Arthur found Gwynn in the alcove as predicted by Wledyr. Sitting on the rocky floor with her knees gathered to her chest, her gaze was lost in the ocean and her face was lifted slightly as if to better welcome the caress of the cool marine air.

Though her stance was taut, she looked peaceful. Maybe she did not need his comfort as he thought Ennyny had hinted. Nonetheless, even with the pitiful excuse to give her the coverlet, he _would _impose in her private world and share it with her for a moment. He smiled inwardly. The temptation was just too powerful to fight…

Navigating the tricky rocks, he wondered how a four-year old child had managed to descend without falling or getting hurt. Then again, that child had been Gwynn… the willful little princess of the portrait. If anyone could have done that, then she would have definitely been the one…

Silently, he covered her body with the blanket and sat next to her, perhaps a bit closer than etiquette would have recommended, but he figured that the wind chill merited human warmth. She merely smiled acknowledging the gesture.

"Still looking for mermaids I see…" He said with mocking seriousness, looking at the ocean.

She smiled, but did not turn.  
"And still no luck."

"I told you… you are just too beautiful."

"And I also told you, my lord, flattery won't get you anywhere…"

He chuckled, turning to her and his eyes got trapped in the exquisite profile of her features.  
"I thought you said it would…"

Coking an eyebrow, she looked at him with a taunting smile, decided to take the bait.  
"Did I…"

Gods… she was beautiful… and so close. His eyes darted to her mouth unintentionally and his voice was barely above a whisper.

"Will it…?"

"That depends…"

The subtle bantering was relentlessly speeding his heart beat.  
"On the flattery, I suppose…"

"On where you want to go, my lord…"

Her throaty chuckle effectively pushed his pulse into a rampant race.  
_Was the little vixen teasing him?_  
All right, if the name of the game was to outwit the opponent, he would raise to the occasion.

"What about permission to share your private quarters?"

Her scandalized expression was truly priceless, and Arthur laughed out loud like he hadn't done in a long time. Knowing what her next reaction would be, he savored his next words before voicing them… His eyebrows went up in a deceitfully innocent gesture, but his eyes were absolutely wicked.

"You have a very warped mind, my lady. I was only thinking of _this _little alcove you have here…"

The initial appalled look of the Princess quickly morphed into an utterly embarrassed one and she blushed from head to toe. Murderous green eyes burned on his cerulean ones before she burst out on a happy laugh as well.

"It is so unkind of you to embarrass me in this fashion, Sire. You should be ashamed of yourself."

In a mute apology, he grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles, still chuckling. He didn't give back her hand, and she didn't rescue it…His laugh was a solace that had been silent for too long, and Gwynn realized just how much she had missed it.

Changing the subject rapidly, lest he managed to make her blush again, she waved her free hand.  
"Welcome to my secret palace, your highness."

The alcove was big enough for two grown ups but it must have looked humongous to the eyes of a child. No wonder she'd loved this place so much.

"Thank you, your highness. And a beautiful one it is."

"Well…" She continued playfully. "As you can see the accommodations left much to be desired… But the view is just amazing…"

"Certainly, my lady. I am honored that you've allowed me to share such grandiose quarters with you."

Pushing away a devilish little voice that was saying something about someday visiting her _real_ quarters, Arthur decided to pursue some other topics taking advantage of the light atmosphere and the fact that they were already back to the comfortable bantering zone.

"Now then… Besides looking for mermaids… What else are you doing perched in your secret palace when it's almost time for supper?"

There was a brief moment of silent while Gwynn pondered whether to continue with the teasing or tell him the truth. She turned her eyes to the ocean. The day had been extremely draining already; a partial truth was a better option.  
"Actually, I was thinking of everything that has happened…"

Not sure if he should regret his question or her answer, which had obviously brought up a sour topic, Arthur sighed loudly.  
"It's been an eventful trip for certain…"

"Yes…" She sighed too, but her voice kept the same serene tone. "It seems almost unbelievable that only two days ago we were at the house of healings… Everything seems so far away now… Too much has passed since then."

Agreeing in silence, Arthur couldn't repress a small smile while thinking of the visit to the children's refuge and little Marlinka. The Princess was right… after everything that had happened, those memories—although very recent—suddenly seemed faded, like belonging to a distant past.

Briefly going over the dreadful events that followed the pleasant visit, the Prince remembered something and spoke out loud almost unintentionally.

"The assailant… the disfigured man…"

The unspoken question made the Princess become visibly rigid, as she immediately knew what he was referring to. Her face, however, showed nothing.  
"Gurgeneu."

"You knew him…" He had guessed as much.

"He was there when my parents die."

The idea of changing topics crossed his mind, as he half-regretted bringing up the issue. However, if he was going to help her face Ruther, he needed to know everything. He might as well get the answers he wanted.  
"And the scars on his face…"

A vicious smirk appeared in her otherwise impassible face.  
"He was the one who went after me… I did that to him." Then she turned briefly to her companion, uncomfortably elaborating. "My… powers did that to him."

Arthur tightened his fingers around her petite hand, even though it occurred to him that she did not seem in need of comfort.  
"He's gone now… He can't hurt you any more."

Her almost vindictive smile widened when she nodded in silence, making him feel cold. She _really_ did not seem anxious or upset. Only detached… and implacable.  
"How do you know his name?"

"I was once hiding in my uncle's office while playing hide-and-seek with Helene. I thought he was gone for the day... I was inside a cupboard when Ruther walked in unexpectedly with someone else." There was no hesitation in her answer, no trembling in her tone. "They were arguing about a payment and my uncle called him Gurgeneu. At first I couldn't see him, but the voice sounded familiar so I peeked and…"

Exhaling forcefully, the Prince completed the sentence to spare her the discomfort; everything becoming clear at last.  
"… And that's how you learned your uncle was behind your parents' assassination."

The nod was almost imperceptible. He thought of embracing her, only to realize that she had built an icy wall around her. She was definitely distant… the previous mood gone for good.

Without knowing what else to say, he chose the obvious…  
"I am sorry… I didn't mean…"

"It's all right. It's been a long time ago anyway… And he's dead."

A regal spite in her voice was unmistakable, and Arthur recalled her proud stance the night of the rescue when she had acknowledged his killing. For all her sweetness and tenderness, it was easy to forget that underneath the soft cover there _was_ a warrior Princess. He felt even more captivated by her, if that was actually possible.

"I should thank you for sharing that with me…"

"You avenged me, Sire. It's the least I could do."

Her matter-of-fact response was attuned with her detached and cold demeanor and Arthur had the vague idea that although lovely Finnabair had been there before; as of now, it was blatantly obvious that it was the Lady of Leoness and no other the one sitting next him.

The lightheartedness of the beginning was unquestionably gone. Perchance leaving was a good idea before things got even sourer.  
"We should go back…"

As usual, she answered the unexpected. The Princess came out from the gloomy memories by herself and unscathed; and the frosty wall she had erected melted away in a promising smile.  
"Not yet. I want to see the sunset… You'll enjoy it too."

Who would have thought…  
_You are indeed full of surprises, my lady…_

Maybe there was something to be savaged from the peaceful day's end. The trademark sideways grin appeared on the Prince's face once again.  
"Wledyr and Ennyny will have my head…"

Gwynn finally turned to him, smiling that devilish smile that was responsible for his blood to boil almost immediately.  
"I'll defend you, don't worry."

Arthur quirked an eyebrow, but before he could think of some clever retort to her blunt pun, she opened the coverlet and invited him in.

"Here… It gets cold very quickly as the sun goes down. This will keep us warm."

His body stiffened instantly. Did she have any idea what this type of actions did to him?  
_Honestly… _

"Princess…" His royal eloquence was lost in the sudden pounding of the blood in his ears.

But she didn't even seem to listen to him and maneuvering the thick comforter as well as her arms would allow it, managed to wrap him up too. Except that while doing so, her neck ended up directly in front of Arthur's mouth and her hair tickled his skin making him stiffened even further.

"There…" She smiled with satisfaction at her handy work and looked at him, only then realizing how close they were.

Instinctively, the Prince's arm sneaked around her brief waist and brought her even closer. The movement surprised them both, and they held their breaths as the world around them was rapidly fading.

The thick cover prevented the heat from the bodies to diffuse in the cold ocean wind, making them acutely aware of each other's warmth. Arthur's eyes were darkening as quickly as the summer sky with an upcoming storm. The little she-devil would certainly drive him crazy.

_Do you know what you are doing?_

He never knew whether he had voiced those words out loud or if she had been able to read his thoughts. Whatever the case—and albeit blushing—she chose to smile candidly.

"You are my friend. I trust you." And turned her face towards the ocean again.

To say that the Prince was dumbfounded by her behavior would have been a sore understatement.  
_Trust him?  
He didn't trust himself for Heaven's sake!_

His confusion was such that, for a moment, he didn't know whether to laugh at his pathetic plight or simply yield to his climbing desire and have his way with her right there…  
_Friends? Like this?  
Seriously?_

Although he had never really stopped and think about it, he'd always suspected that 'being friends' did not mean the same for him as it did for Gwynn. With his long history of court dalliances, he had developed strict rules when it came to 'friendship' with female companions, and he usually applied the term as a polite way to indicate to the lady in question that their affair was over and any form of closeness with him—whether physical or emotional—was henceforth off limits.

Yet, based on the fashion in which they relationship had progressed, it had become clear that Gwynn's rules about friendship limits—if she had any at all—were more flexible than his… maybe even blurred altogether. Most likely her inexperience with men was the reason, but it occurred to him that for the Princess, _friendship_ and _sensuality_ were not necessarily mutually exclusive.

All right then, if that was the case, it was fine with him.  
_Really fine… _

The wicked inner smile quickly transferred to his lips, while his eyes looked hungrily at the perfection of her profile and the softness of her neck. She was wearing a simple dress that might have most likely been Wledyr's. It was slightly big for her frame and the décolletage fell loose around her shoulders, showing far more of the delicious skin than the cut obviously intended.

The knowledge that the advantage point of his height would certainly give him a clear view of the ill-fitted neckline—and what it revealed—made him almost salivate. Always the proper knight, however, he moved his eyes to the ocean trying to concentrate in the beauty of the orange sky.

After pushing away the last of his inconvenient… _feelings_—or so he thought—he reclined on the rock and brought her with him. Bad idea… Her lightweight on his chest and her warmth permeated through his clothes and skin, all the way to his bones. Wondering how long until his self-control would snap for good, Arthur felt trapped.

But then she sighed happily and moved faintly to make herself more comfortable. The innocence and forthright trust embedded in the motion gave him back some of his severely shattered restraint. A long exhale cleansed his inner turmoil and he finally relaxed.

* * *

Sir Alric was pacing his office like a caged lion having just been debriefed by his son and Sir Leon on the latest incidents.

"And you are _sure _she is safe."

Lescaut and Leon looked at each other briefly, and Sir Leon spoke first.  
"She is with Prince Arthur, Sir. She is surely safe."

Alric stopped pacing and nodded.  
"We need to act quickly, lest Ruther suspects something. You shall ride at dawn. I'll alert the nobles."

Another exchange of meaningful looks between the two younger knights prompted Lescaut to speak.  
"If it is the same for you, father, we'd rather ride tonight… It's a clear night and we could gain crucial time by doing so."

The older commander thought for a moment on a plausible excuse for the Stewart.  
"All right. Take two of your best guards and go with the Camelot knights. I'll tell Ruther I saw some bandits in the northern planes and worried about the Camelot Prince. I am sure he wouldn't want to risk sending King Uther unpleasant news about his only heir." He looked at his son and Sir Leon one last time. "Go. Be careful and bring them all back… and safe."

Both knights acknowledged the order with a slight bow and left immediately.

* * *

They had been absentmindedly looking at the large orange orb of the sun making its slow way towards the watery horizon. Amidst the peaceful setting, their thoughts had wandered in the same direction: both marveling at the perfect feeling of harmony and happiness that the other's company provided.

As far as Arthur was concerned, the uncertainty of their future had become extraneous at best. Irrelevant, actually. Right there, only they existed. And just as it had been in Eleara, it was once more only a lady and her knight…

It had been a long while since anyone had spoken when her voice brought the Prince back from his blissful denial.  
"What do you think it'll happen when we return to Leoness?"

_Right… Leoness… The Steward… The bastard.  
_"We'll confront Ruther and make him pay."

"But we have no real proof."

_That's not going to stop me from killing him. _  
"We won't need proof. He does not know you are alive. When he sees his plan has failed, he'll do something desperate and we'll get him."  
_I'll get him…_

Pondering his adamant answer, Gwynn tried to feel reassured. However, there was still one possibility that their plan might not work.  
"And if he does not?"

The determined answer simply confirmed her fears. The Prince clearly intended to finish what he had started.  
"Then I will marry you and you'll be granted the crown."

Not a word, not a movement followed his sentence. It was as if the Princess hadn't even heard him.

But Gwynn had heard him and only the solemnity of the situation prevented her from scoffing bitterly.  
_Except that if so, you would be taking to Camelot the embodiment of what your father hates the most… A direct descendant of one of the gods of the Old Religion… And the God of the Fair Folks no less…_

Should she tell him? She decided against it. He'd been through quite a day already and he had finally found some solace…  
Besides… what good would that do anyway? There was nothing either of them could do about it.

The revelation Ennyny had shared with her earlier about her true heritage had not affected her as much as the truth of his past had affected Arthur. For starters, she had suspected something like that anyways, based on comments her mother had shared with her when she was a child.

Furthermore, she had not been deceived about it… Which was evidently what had upset the Prince the most. In her case, it had been just an unfortunate sequence of events that had prevented her from learning her true legacy. Uther, on the other hand, had made a point of keeping his own son in the dark. There was obviously not comparison.

Tears prickled in her eyes and she inhaled deeply to stop them, whishing for her brain to stop thinking… She had not meant to bring up the topic, but somehow had needed his reassurance… Regrettably, she'd gotten more she had bargained for and it was too late to back down.

Noticing his heart pounding faster under her hand, Gwynn understood something should be said… But what?

The moment was too precious to ruin it with thoughts of gloomy and uncertain futures. If the Gods were to grant her only the present—_this_ present—she would take it, no questions asked.

Looking at the sun sinking in the calm waters of the ocean, she sighed again.  
"Isn't it just stunning?"

Of all the things she could have said, Arthur reckoned that none would have hurt as much as her casual comment. It was not that he could blame her… Marrying him would mean yielding her kingdom to Uther no less… Still, on a personal level, the fact that she did not show the minimum reaction about the possibility—or lack of thereof—of their union felt like a kick to his guts.

The words of Merlin came to him with a vengeance.  
_"Don't you think that things have changed enough since Eleara? Have you actually asked her if she still wants that?" _

It seemed that Merlin had his answer after all. For all her understanding and support, she still did not trust him enough to marry him…

His anger was mounting fueled by a mixture of frustration and jealousy. If given the chance, she would certainly choose to share the throne of her beloved Leoness with someone with a cleaner past, with fewer complications.

Someone _other _than the son of the infamous Uther Pendragon. He hated that he could not blame her…

It did not matter that she harbored feelings for him, as he knew she did. What mattered was that her sense of duty for her country and the wellbeing of her people would prevail.

The quickly fading rational part of his brain suggested that _his own_ sense of duty had prevailed throughout his life and he shouldn't hold that against her… But his emotions viciously shut down the notion when it also dawned on him that this was yet another disturbing coincidence between them… Except that this one would likely keep them apart.

_Why couldn't she just be a docile maid who would do what she feels, rather than what she ought? _

It was indeed a mocking paradox that the same trait of hers that had enthralled him so much, it was right now the one getting on his way. And he hated again the fact that he could not fault her for it.

Sensing his change, Gwynn sat up to look at him.  
"You are upset…"

Yes, he was. The blow on his male pride had been merciless. But no power on Earth would make him admit that.

"No…"

"You are not really in your _Princely_ mode…" She smiled meaningfully. "I know you are upset… Why?"

_Did she even have to ask why? _

The situation was rapidly turning into a nightmare, as far the Prince was concerned. Had she been anyone else, he would have sworn she was playing coy with him. Just his luck, this was not just anyone, but fascinating, stubborn… maddening Gwynn.

_Was it possible for her to be this clueless?_

The seer's words echoed in his mind. _"Finnabair is still a child in many ways." _

Yes. Apparently it was possible.  
And that damned smile was twisting his insides. The impertinent light in her eyes was directly responsible for his stern self-control to slip.

Grabbing her face in his strong, big hands, he closed the distance to her lips. The kiss was covetous and overpowering; his sole intention to prove that no matter what, she was undeniably _his… _

The kiss ended as abruptly as it started when Arthur harshly pushed away, afraid that his feelings could weaken his initial resolution. One look at her green eyes darkened by desire and he knew it… Her sense of duty may prevent her to admit her feelings… but they were there, brewing under the surface and just waiting to be unleashed… And he knew he had the power to do so.

The question was… should he?

A wolfish smile crept to his lips. For once they were truly alone, in a private setting with only the sky and the dying sun as witnesses. It would have been very easy for him…

His ever-present sense of propriety immediately dismissed the idea. He should not take advantage of the situation. He _would_ not… No matter how strong his impulses were growing.

Gwynn was looking at him utterly confused. The kiss had stolen her breath and she was dying for another one… But once again Arthur had that disturbingly inexorable expression in his steel-blue eyes, as if studying her…

_Maybe…_

Biting her lower lip and blushing furiously, she took the initiative this time. It was a tentative kiss, almost timid… and yet it stirred the Prince to the core. Taken by surprise, Arthur's first reaction was to let her experiment a little, trying neither to discourage her, nor to become too engaged in the task.

Soon, however, and somewhere between trying to be conscious of the situation and careful of not getting lost in it, he discovered that something had melted inside him and he had actively begun participating in the kiss.

A delicious moan of pleasure escaped her throat and Arthur smiled slyly over her lips, reaching behind her neck to bring her even closer. He could feel her excitement, her surrender… Her pulse, her breathing… all of her spoke of awaken desired that demanded to be appeased.

His barely alive consciousness berated him once more. This was wrong… This was not appropriate and he was loosing his footing too fast. With the last glimpse of willpower, he retreated…

Unfortunately for him, the Princess had other ideas. Everything she wanted at the moment was for her wonderful Prince to kiss her senseless as he only knew how. She groaned throatily at the interruption and pouted, her eyes closed and her lips still lifted towards him in blatant offer. Arthur cursed unintelligibly. He was at the end of his tether and she was still provoking him…

When he did not continue with the delicious torture of his mouth, she finally opened her eyes. The unconcealed passion in the Prince's eyes stole her breath for a moment… fueling her excitement a second later as a blasting surge of womanly smugness won her over. Intuitively, she reckoned that she held the power of the situation… The thought alone was inebriating,

_Would he do her bidding? One way to know…_

Once again her treacherous smile got the best of him, and when she grabbed his neck to pull him closer, Arthur threw control to the wind. She was seducing him, whether knowledgeably or not, and he could not take it anymore.

The world be damned… He had never wanted a woman as much as he wanted her, and he was utterly powerless to escape her bewitching allure. The emotional roller coaster he had experienced the entire day broke free in a feral growl that seemed to come from the very depths of his soul.

Not too gently he flipped her over her back without a thought for decorum. With her body almost completely underneath his, all his civility got lost. His kisses became greedy, predatory, and Gwynn rejoiced in the feeling of her bones melting and her mind shutting down at last…

The prince only broke the kiss to attack her neck, nipping and lavishing it with more kisses afterwards. The large dress fell off her shoulder leaving a tempting expanse of creamy skin open to his hungry lips, and his hands itched to roam all over her exquisite form while still miraculously restricted by a glimmer of sanity.

With each passing moment, however, they got more and more lost in each other… until a shrill cry from a flock of seagulls brutally pulled Arthur out of the enchantment.

It was like a splash of cold water. He turned his head towards the sky trying to remember where he was and it took a moment for his drunken brain to get his bearings straight. He then turned back to the lovely body under his. Gwynn's eyes were hooded and glazed and her lips bruised by his kisses.

His eyes followed the trail of his mouth; soft red marks were the remaining of his assault and her erratic breathing told him about the sensual anxiety he had awakened.

A smile of pure male pride started to draw in his lips, but before it reached his eyes it transmuted in a gesture of horror when it dawned on him that he was about to ravish her right there and then, without the slightest consideration.

He rolled off her and Gwynn's trance ended when she felt the coldness of his retreat. Arthur was quick to cover her with the comforter, putting away the temptation, and they looked at each other, now both conscious of what transpired—and almost transpired—between them.

His eyes were mortified. "Princess I…"

She immediately understood his plight. He was an honorable man… He was her Knight in shiny armor and he was berating himself for the apparent breach in propriety. She would not have it.

"Shhh… My lord… Do not ruin this moment with useless apologies…""

It was such a typical reaction of hers… And when her finger went to his mouth, he had to close his eyes as a new surge of desire inundated him.

The interlude should end without more ado; his self-control hanging from a thin thread. He stood up.  
"We should really go now…"

Getting her up, he took on her disarray and fixed the neckline of her dress, covering her with the coverlet. Between amused and worried, he muttered.  
"Now I am sure Wledyr and Ennyny _will_ have my head..."

She giggled, leaning her head on his shoulder.  
"I told you. I will protect you..."

But he said nothing else and led her to the house, her hand firmly encased in his; his thoughts too confusing to utter any further words. It was dusk already… and the only thing he could remember about the sunset was the flaming color of her cheeks under the reddening light of the dying sun.

* * *

A/N: Tired of reading? ;-) What did you think?


	35. Chapter 35: Realizations

SAME DISCLAIMER AS IN CHAPTER 1

Another long chapter ahead… Too much to tell, so little time to say it in ;-)  
Things are developing quickly, doom looms in the horizon, and the story is taking its final turn…

I have done some research and came up with my own version of Merlin's heritage. I hope you like it and I would love to hear what you think of it.

Also, remember that the story took off right after Season 2, in case you are wondering.

To my loyal reviewers: thank you SO MUCH for taking the time to let me know what you think.  
It's very rewarding and encouraging. I appreciate it very, very much.

* * *

_**Chapter 35: Realizations**_

Ruther narrowed his eyes even further. It wasn't that he had expected to receive confirmation from Gurgeneu yet. They had agreed that after the deed was done, some prudential time should pass before contacting each other again—namely after he was definitely crowned King of Leoness—as to not raise suspicion. However, something in his guts was making him edgy.

Ever since Arthur Pendragon showed up unannounced in the Citadel, things had gotten more and more complicated. Once his envisioned passage to the throne of Leoness, the young Prince had quickly become a major obstacle instead, and had set in motion events that could not be stopped anymore… In spite of his natural aversion to take unnecessary risks, Ruther had been forced to burn all bridges…

His second-in-command entering the room interrupted his inner deliberation.  
"The Camelot knights had left, Sir. Just as you expected."

"Have they spoken with anyone else?"

The guard shook his head.  
"Only Sir Lescaut when he came back, and recently with Sir Alric, as you are aware. No one else Sir."

The fact that Sir Lescaut had visited the Knights had not called up his attention. After all, the captain had left the Citadel with their Prince but returned alone. If anything, the only strange aspect of it was that they had waited until now to leave. Which brought up the question about their conversation with Alric…

What would they have talked about that prompted the visiting soldiers to leave in such haste _after_ meeting with the Commander? More importantly, why would the Commander speak with _them_ before debriefing _him_ on the Princess' situation and his own mission to the coast?

As if conjured, Sir Alric made his appearance in the throne room.

"Oh, Alric… I was wondering where were you…" The sarcastic remark did not go unnoticed by the old commander. He knew perfectly well that Ruther followed everyone's movements and so he was most likely aware of his meeting with Leon and Lescaut, even if he did not know what had been discussed.

"My son informed me of the developments with our Princess as soon as I got back, Sir."

It was plausible. Lescaut was the Princess' guard and Alric's son after all… And yet, the Steward couldn't shake the feeling that something was not right. Even though the face of the knight was blank as usual, for the first time in many years Ruther noticed something brewing underneath the surface that left him wondering… and uneasy.

Thinking that some drama was in order to divert the attention, Ruther roared in pretended denial. "_Nothing _has happened to my niece!" And then his voice cracked. "Gwynn is well… She _has_ to be. And whomever did this will pay dearly… I have sent search parties left and right, Alric… She _must_ be found…"

Alric had to make a tremendous effort not to laugh at the absurd scene while throttling the life out of the bastard and be done with it… Nevertheless—and no matter how justified the execution—these were not times for rash actions, but for carefully conceived and flawlessly executed plans. Thus, he just showed the same concern as the 'distraught' uncle.

"I am sure your niece is fine, Sir. We will find her and bring her back safe and sound."

After a moment of silence during which Ruther pretended to try and control his distress, he nodded and spoke again.

"What news from the coast?"

The commander proceeded with the customary military debriefing of his mission, cautiously avoiding mentioning the futility of it. In light of the recent developments, it was obvious to the seasoned knight that the Steward had sent him—along with the entire military branch still loyal to the Princess—on a wild-goose chase on purpose. In any case, the less Ruther thought he knew, the better.

A brief pause followed his recount before the Steward pointedly asked. "And what of the Camelot Knights? Are you aware that they have left the Citadel without speaking to me?"

Smiling inwardly and disclosing nothing, Sir Alric assented. "Indeed, Sir. I spoke with them when I learned from my son that Prince Arthur and his servant where doing a search on their own..."

Patience was not one of Ruther's fortes by a long shot and he roared again.  
"And?"

"When returning from the coast, we crossed paths with some barbarians from the north that had ventured towards our borders. As soon as I learned that Prince Arthur was riding through the northern plains without a military escort, I feared for his safety and immediately dispatched his Knights to protect him. I sent my son and two guards with them since they know the area far better."

The explanation made sense, and in some rational level the Steward knew it. However, the nagging feeling that Alric was hiding something had been in a constant crescendo in his mind, and his guilty conscience got the best of him.

Everything was happening too fast and not exactly according to plan. Despite the fact that Gurgeneu had successfully abducted the Princess, he had not expected for the kidnapping to be discovered so soon, nor for the Camelot Prince to act so quickly—or recklessly for that matter—and go on a search on his own.

For a minute, he wished the young Pendragon had been intercepted by Gurgeneu or the barbarians and was already dead. One less problem for him... Although he would regret it a second later, he couldn't control his words and they came out drenched in disdain.

"I see… Your concern for the Prince is noted, Alric. After all, you have been waiting for this marriage for quite some time."

Already prepared for that, the commander ignored the cynicism and straightened his shoulders. "I did not do it out of concern for the Prince, Sir Ruther, but out of fear for Leoness."

The Steward was taken aback and when the commander continued talking slowly and apprehensively, he instantly changed his mind and prayed for a safe return of the royal,.

"If something happens to the Prince while he's visiting us, King Uther will not hesitate to claim revenge… and even the kingdom while he's at it, Sir." Alric paused to let his words sink in. "We are a small country and Camelot forces outnumber us four to one. We stand no chance at all. Our best hope is to find Prince Arthur safe and sound. I did not have time to check with you Sir, but I thought the situation demanded for a swift action. I hope you'd agree."

Ruther found his mouth becoming dry with anxiety. Alric was right on target. After all, he had chosen Camelot to seal his niece's fate based solely in Uther's despotic and cruel reputation. If something happened to the obnoxious young heir, he certainly should not expect any mercy from the mighty King.

Although totally deviated from the original plan, the bottom line was that so far his niece was out of the picture, which was the ultimate goal nonetheless. He just needed to reign on his fury for a while longer and he'd have his prize… _His _crown. He'd waited far too long for that moment, and it was within his reach. The image of Alric swearing loyalty to him… or hanging because refusing to do so, pleased him momentarily.

"You are right, of course, Sir Alric. We must hope that our young royals return soon and unharmed to the Castle. And I should thank you for sending Sir Lescaut with them… I know he had been injured."

The commander only nodded. His pretext had worked, as he knew it would. For all his deviousness, Ruther was not an extremely smart person. And even if he were, his greediness would always get in the way of reason. The Steward's weaknesses had been his advantage throughout all the years that followed the assassination of the royal family… and they would continue to be so until the usurper was removed from the throne and hanged for treason.

"Is there anything else, Sir…"

The Steward took a moment to answer, still reeling from his impatience, his anger and his now added worries.  
"No Alric. You may leave for now."

As soon as the royal commander left, Ruther turned to his second-in-command.  
"Take a party and go after the Camelot knights. Make sure to outnumber them two to one at least. Be _extra _cautions and follow from the distance. You shall _not_ be seen."

The soldier nodded, but the Steward wasn't done.  
"Mark my words, Gallmau: if the Prince is in trouble, then save him and bring them all back. If there is no need to intervene, remain hidden and out of sight. Is that clear?"

Again, the soldier only nodded and prepared to leave when his master walked towards him, standing only inches from his face.  
"But…" he hissed. "If for any reason my niece is with them… you _will_ kill them all. Am I understood?"

The guard swallowed. He knew well Ruther's intentions… However, he had also heard Alric… If King Uther were to attack Leoness to avenge his son, they would all be doomed.

"Sir…" he tried to find the words that would not upset the spiteful Steward any further. "But what about what Sir Alric said… What if King Uther decides to attack…"

Ruther viciously grabbed the guard's throat and seethed through clenched teeth.  
"If Gurgeneu had failed me… I will take my chances with Camelot. But my niece _must_ die." He let go of the man, who coughed gasping for air. With deadly calm the Steward finished. "It is either her head… or yours. You choose."

* * *

Remorse was something that Arthur had not experienced very often in his live. As a warrior, he had never looked back on his actions. And as the Heir of the most powerful king in these lands, the Prince had been taught to always take full responsibility for his deeds, but never to dwell on them.

Then again, ever since this strange and fascinating woman had entered his life, he had found himself in the most unusual and unexpected behaviors he could have ever imagined. Remorse, in this case, was another inexplicable feeling that should be added to the list.

Moving uncomfortably in his bed, the Prince struggled to remove these unsettling thoughts from his brain. But they lingered there.

The most inexplicable thing had occurred to him. After a lifetime worth of royal training… he had lost every vestige of restraint in one instant.

He was neither a saint, nor a monk by any account, and he had had his fair share of bed partners. But he had never, for the life of his, surrendered his control as he had with Gwynn. Worst of all, and unlike the uninhibited courtiers he had usually been intimate with, Gwynn was the crown Princess of Leoness and its future Queen. He _owed_ her respect.

It did not comfort him a bit the fact that she had been more than receptive to his ministrations… He should have known better. It was his responsibility to end her infatuation _without_ taking advantage of it.

And even more puzzling was that he could not find any reasonable explanation of why his stern self-control had failed him. No woman had ever held that power over him. And she had done it, whether purposely or innocently; the truth was that this enigmatic Princess had achieved in one minute—and with one kiss he should add—what no one had in all his life.

Changing positions, he laid on his back with his arms crossed behind his neck and tried at least to get some rest, since sleep had definitely escaped him.

Images of what happened in the rocky alcove flooded his mind against his wishes. Gwynn's aloofness when it came to their potential union had gotten once again under his skin with no logical reason.

Wasn't he the one who did not want to be married _yet_ anyway? Then why did her silence have felt so… aggravating?

No matter how much he tried, he could scarcely remember what he had been thinking when he dragged the Princess under his body. He clearly remembered being angry… At first.

"I am just pathetic!" he sneered in disgust. The silence of the night was almost deafening and his thoughts were just too loud to withstand.

He sighed in exasperation. He was not going to be able to rid himself of this feeling, it seemed.

All these irrational emotions whenever Finnabair was concerned were completely new to him and he had to admit he had not clue how to handle them. Perhaps _that_ had gotten his guard down and her enthusiastic responses to his caresses had concocted a very volatile mixture.

When all was said and done, it had been a big mistake and he needed to find the way to deal with it. He was absolutely clueless as to what _her_ reaction would be in the morning. Nothing within the ordinary, that was for sure.

In any case, the unavoidable conclusion was that he should be extra careful around her and maintain his distance. He should not let what happened in the cliff to occur ever again; he might not be able to stop next time…

* * *

It was well past dawn when Merlin finally saw Bryn Myrddin through the faint light of the morning sun covered by the outcast weather. As per Ennyny instructions, he had traveled inland following a nearby river. The river had narrowed the farther he had moved from the ocean, to become not more than a stream with rapid waters as the terrain turned mountainous.

Bryn Myrddin was a quite peculiar hill just before a further closing of the stream. According to Ennyny, the entrance should be there, hidden behind the rocky formation of the left margin. He left his horse and began climbing. The boulders were slippery with the moss and the rain and he almost fell at least twice. He wasn't even sure what he would find since the seer had been more than cryptic in her directions and had only mentioned one name: Myrddin Wyllt.

The sense of magic had been steadily growing the closer he had gotten to the place, but by now the wizard had identified it as a _good_ feeling. Strange, for certain, but good nonetheless.

Finally reaching a small recess on the rocky wall, Merlin looked around disoriented. There was no entrance in sight. Had he missed the place? He glanced down to the water, disheartened. The descent on the slippery walls was surely going to be far more difficult than it was to climb up.

It was then than a voice sounded clear in his head, startling him.  
_"Welcome Emrys… I have waited for a long, long time to meet you… "_

Not recognizing the voice, he automatically attributed it to the mysterious Myrddin Wyllt. It was not Kilgharrah's for sure.  
_"Use your powers, Emrys, and you will find your way…"_

Shrugging his shoulders, Merlin stretched his hand and repeated the enchantment he had used in Leoness to discover the hidden door on the wall.

"_Dangos kasyra skryte"_

Nothing happened. Before he could try again, the voice in his head taunted him.  
_"Emrys… Those silly magical tricks are not enough to uncover what you are about to find… This is a sacred place… Try harder and REALLY use your powers."_

Blushing profusely and looking around as if someone was watching, the warlock tried again. This time he focused conscientiously and finding his magical source deep within himself, he roared.

"_Yn gorchymyn duris otvorene"_

The boulders disappeared and were replaced by an entrance that reminded him of a temple's portico. He stepped inside and, as soon as he did so, the rocks closed up again behind him; to his further amazement: noiselessly.

The narrow passage soon opened into a wide-open space, so high he couldn't see the top. There was, however, something resembling a faint ray of light coming for the seemingly endless height and the warlock figured that perhaps the hilltop might have been hollow… Maybe…

The place was bizarre enough to warrant any kind of speculation. For instance, where the light was coming from since although no candles or torches were in sight, the cave was fully illuminated with an extraordinary radiance.

"Hello?" His surprises continued when no echo of his call resounded inside, in spite of the size and emptiness of the cavern.

It was certainly the most incredible, mystical… Most fantastic place he had ever imagined…

"Hello there… Please, please…come over here."

The voice was soothing and welcoming and it came from a niche on the right side. Walking a couple of steps, Marlin could finally see his owner. An elder man with a white tunic and white hair was comfortably sitting on a fairly ornate chaise, which looked completely out of place in the rustiness of the grotto.

There were so many questions buzzing in the young warlock's mind he wasn't sure which one to utter first. His mouth decided for him.  
"What is this place?"

The old man chuckled, obviously aware of the youngster's confusion.  
"Ah… this is a very special place, Merlin. This is where _everything_ started."

Though the emphasis on the word seemingly indicated its meaning, according to Merlin it was still quite an ambiguous term.  
"Everything?"

"This is where Magic was born." The man signaled him to come closer and sit. "Dragons lived here long, long ago… Ever since Bahamut visited these lands and entrusted the realm to the first Great Wyrm."

"Dragons?" But it suddenly occurred to Merlin that another matter was even important, and he quickly rephrased his inquiry. "Bahamut?"

The evident mix of confusion and curiosity of the wizard seemed to entertain the man in white, who kept smiling placidly and a bit amused.

"Bahamut was the God of the dragons. He came to these lands at the beginning of times."

That was certainly a 'long, long' time ago, as far as Merlin was concerned, and his mind desperately tried to wrap around the information it was receiving. Nevertheless, and not having forgotten his previously overridden question, the wizard pressed on.

"So _dragons_ were the keepers of the magic?" That would certainly explain some things…

"Oh, yes… Long before wizards and sorceress, magic was wielded only by dragons. They were the keepers of its secrets and through the knowledge they gathered along their long lives from Nature and from the Earth from whence they came, they perfected it to what it is today."

Merlin was silent for a short second, digesting the new facts, when another query popped in his mind.  
"And who was the Great Wyrm?"

The old man openly laughed shaking his head.  
"It seems, my dear boy, that your knowledge of dragons is quite rustic. We'll have to work on that…" He chuckled again before explaining. "The Great Wyrms were the Elders of the dragon community, greatly regarded for their knowledge, magical powers and wisdom. Dragons are highly evolved social creatures Merlin. "

The warlock couldn't help to make a face. Somehow_ that_ was hard to believe. His experience with dragons—admittedly limited to only one—was not so civil. For all the spoken concerns about Camelot, Arthur's destiny and the future of Albion, Kilgharrah had showed no mercy and had almost leveled Camelot to the ground on its own.

His silent reluctance was written all over his face and so the old man explained in a conciliatory tone.  
"Merlin… As with all creatures of Nature, dragons are not impervious to love, anger and other powerful emotions… They feel and act just like humans do. There is goodness and evil in them just like in humans." He paused and sighed. "I do not condone Kilgharrah's actions my boy. But I think I understand them… He suffered a great deal at the hands of Uther. Not only his imprisonment, but witnessing the annihilation of his entire kin."

The last part struck a chord in Merlin's heart and he nodded in silence. He hadn't thought of that…. Apparently, the imposing image of the mighty beast had overpowered his mind and he hadn't contemplated the fact that Kilgharrah might have had feelings after all.

Suddenly he felt ashamed and blushed. Just yesterday—while speaking with Ennyny—he had acknowledged the fact that most people either hated or feared that which they could not understand. He knew it by experience and had suffered it for being… different.

And yet, he had showed Kilgharrah the same discourtesy.  
His own ignorance of dragons had made him first dread the creature, and later despised it for what it had done. He wished he could take back some of the words he had spoken to the dragon amidst his anger and apprehension.

It was then when, as if invoked by magic—which was actually the most likely explanation given the place and the company—the great dragon made its appearance flying out of nowhere, and perching on a rock nearby.

"I told you we would meet again, young warlock." The greeting was reserved, as usual.

Trying to compose from his recent guilt, Merlin was once again reminded of the shear size and power of the mystical creature and couldn't help but to hesitate.

"You are here too…"

"But of course. Where else would I go? This is… _home_."

Despite the cold arrogance in the voice of the dragon, it was the way in which Kilgharrah said 'home' that confirmed—to Merlin—what the elder had said moments ago. Mighty or not, the fantastic winged creature had a heart, just like everyone… Who would have thought?

The old man spoke again.  
"I believe it is only appropriate that the last dragon and you, Emrys, are now connected through the bond of the dragon-lords."

Another question waiting to be asked if there was ever one, and Merlin—still reeling from the overwhelming presence of the dragon—did not waste any time to do so.

"Speaking of it… If dragons are such evolved and sophisticated social creatures…" There was hint of irony in the wizard's voice. "Then, how come dragon-lords exist?"

Kilgharrah straightened at those words, visibly annoyed, but the old man did not seem to be bothered by it.

"Oh… That is a good question my boy. Many, many years ago, like in any society, there were some upheavals within the dragon clans. Some dragons rebelled against the order pre-established by Behemut and began raising havoc amongst the humans." He made a gesture with his hand. "I am sure you have heard stories of dragons burning cities and crops, and kidnapping princesses for ransom. Human folklore is full of those tales. Some are truth, some mere exaggerations of the storyteller…"

Perplexed, Merlin spoke almost unintentionally, now completely immerse in the story.  
"Why did they do that?"

Smiling between sadly and knowledgably, the old man responded with another question.  
"Why does anyone do senseless deeds indeed Merlin?"

The implications of the answer dawned on the wizard and he nodded in silence.

"As I've said, Emrys, the similarities between humans and dragons are more startling that you may think…"

After a short moment of earnest silence, the elder continued his account.  
"Back then, the Great Wyrm worried about the abuse of power of the younger dragons, and so he entrusted a man with the secret of the dragon-lords. Myrddin Wyllt was the first dragon-lord… A direct ancestor, if not by blood certainly by heritage, of your father, Merlin, and you…."

_Myrddin Wyllt was the first dragon-lord! Could it be…? _

Things quickly began to add up to the wizard and with a mixture of marvel and incredulity he whispered while feeling his heart beating faster than ever.

"Is it… _you_?"

An open and fatherly smile graced the old features of Myrddin.  
"Yes, my boy. I _am_ the first dragon-lord. I knew everyone in your family… Your grandfather, your father… I taught them, I trained them… and I will do so with you too…"

Something akin to elation—though much more profound than that—flooded the young warlock's chest. No wonder he had felt at home in Caerfyrddin… Much more _at home_ that he had ever felt in Ealdor…

These magical lands were indeed his father's… And this incredible wizard in front of him was part of his heritage, his own history… There were so many things he wanted to know… so many questions he needed answered…

Unfortunately, his hopes were cut short when Myrddin spoke again.  
"However, I am afraid that this is not a social call, nor the time to entertain your curiosity Emrys. There are more urgent matters that we need to discuss. The future of Albion balances over the edge of a blade… One false movement, even the smallest, and everything will be lost."

"But there are so many things I wanted… I _need_ to know…"

The vehement protest was silenced by the dragon.  
"I believe I have mentioned the young warlock's unyielding stubbornness…"

The unveiled sarcasm earned Kilgharrah a nasty scowl from the younger wizard who opened his mouth to rebut, but was interrupted by Myrddin.  
"Do not mind Kilgharrah… He is still young by dragon's standards and, just like you, he has _also _much to learn… " And continuing with his previous statement, he insisted. "We have a very serious situation in our hands, Merlin. As I said, never before has Albion's future been more uncertain than it is now…"

Somehow disappointed, Merlin nodded in defeat. "I know… Ennyny said that the prophecy might have even spoken of other royals…"

"Oh… yes. Ennyny…" The face of the elder lighted up. "Sweet, wise Ennyny. She has been holding on the last hope for the prophecy, having been such close friend of Feldem. But I'm afraid even she does not know the risks we are facing right now…"

"Risks?"

"That's right." Myrddin sighed tiredly. "You see… Sometimes things happen that alter the course of history… It does not have to be a large event like a war… Sometimes may be as simple and meaningless as a human action... In this case, the greed of a lesser man had put everything in jeopardy…"

"The greed of a lesser man?" Merlin's eyebrows had been steadily rising with the latest disclosures, partly in surprise, partly in further confusion.

"The avarice of Ruther indeed… He killed Queen Binne before Finnabair was of age to become a true descent of the Morrigan… and that has never occurred from the beginning of times…" the elder stressed. "The Princess, though a blood descendant, has not been awarded the full powers that her dynasty grants. No one knows if she would ever become a true Morrigan's heiress…"

Having already surmised that far, the young warlock failed to see the calamity in those facts.  
"Yes, so…?"

"The line might be broken… Even though Finnabair is the last descendant of the Silurian line… if she does not become _also_ a true Morrigan's heir, she would never bear daughters that could fulfill the prophecy in the future… Do you understand?"

Reality came crashing down on Merlin with full force. He was even afraid to utter his next question, dreading the answer with all his being.

"You mean that… this is the _last _chance for Albion?"

"Indeed Merlin. The destiny of Albion now fully depends on Arthur and Finnabair… Both of them will have to rise to the occasion and fulfill Feldem's prophecy… Otherwise, the Morrigan's dynasty might very well come to an end, and Albion will never be born."

"Well… Maybe we shouldn't worry much about it," the warlock tried a small reassuring smile. "As far as I can tell, they do love each other and…"

Lifting his hands, Myrddin shook his head.  
"It is not that simple Merlin… Both Arthur and Finnabair are royals, and both share a deep sense of duty. Whether they love each other or not is not the point… Each one will be bent on doing what they think it's best for their people… And while Uther is alive, Finnabair will not relinquish her kingdom to him…"

"Unless forced." Kilgharrah piped out.

Turning on his heels, Merlin faced the dragon, incredulous.  
"You mean that all along the plan _was_ to allow Ruther to marry her to Arthur by force?"

"That was indeed a possibility." Myrddin assented making Merlin to turn once again towards him.

"But that boat has sailed long ago and…"

The voice of the dragon sounded morosely once again… and downright accusatory.  
"Yes… and you helped with the _sailing _by convincing the Prince to come to Leoness…"

Merlin looked angrily at the dragon.  
"I did what Gaius and I thought it would be best."

"Gaius…" The dragon laughed bitterly. "That traitor does not know anything!"

"He's not a traitor!" Merlin voice rose in fury. "He did what he could… and…"

"Enough, both of you!" The elder commanded in a forceful tone and warlock and dragon immediately shut up. "Whatever Gaius has done in the past, it is water under the bridge now. He might have turned a blind eye to Kilgharrah's capture… but he _did_ save Balinor's life. Your father's life… It is only because of that we are here now…"

Unable to stop himself, Merlin shot a self-satisfied smirk to the dragon and Kilgharrah scoffed scornfully, prompting Myrddin to admonish once more.

"You both _will_ learn to get along with each other. You are both young and inexperienced… and whether you like it or not, your lives are intertwined now and forever…"

A respectful silence followed his sentence, as dragon and dragon-lord understood its implications. The wizard spoke again, seriously worried of the potential consequences of what had been said.

"I just do not understand how things could have been different… The Princess never wanted to marry Arthur, and whatever she had told him had cornered him into breaking the treaty. Even if Ruther stills wants to marry her, Arthur would never accept!"

"You are correct, Emrys. And that's what you need to solve…"

By then, the previous sentiment of euphoria had all but vanished and Merlin once again felt trapped by his so-called 'destiny'. The question came out involuntarily, almost to himself.  
"Why me?"

It was Kilgharrah who answered; his voice calmed and almost compassionate this time.  
"Because if you don't, Merlin … Albion _will_ be lost."

* * *

Gwynn was observing Arthur from the window of the parlor. The rainy weather hadn't stopped the Prince and he had been training for most of the day.

Remembering the afternoon in Eleara when he had done the same after having their first argument, she also recalled her initial fascination with his fighting form. Arthur was simply magnificent while wielding a sword, and Gwynn had to conclude that she would never tire of watching him do so.

It was awe-inspiring and exhilarating all the same...

After an extraneous exercise with his sword, which had virtually rendered the 'opposing' pole to a pile of wooden splints, he was now shooting with a long bow.

She was supposed to be reading, as 'suggested' by Ennyny, but couldn't get her eyes off the Prince. He was soaking wet and the fabric of his shirt, adhered to his skin, clearly marked the stretching and flexing of the muscles of his back and arm every time he drew the bow.

Her mouth went dried at the sight, and when goose bumps covered her skin from head to toe, she knew she was thoroughly blushing. Such power, such beauty was too much for her inexperienced sensuality.

The memory of his eyes and the way he had touched her and kissed her the previous sunset was bringing a soft heat through her body. It was a totally alien and extremely pleasant feeling. A… yearning for something she had never tasted but knew without a doubt she wanted…

Although still a maid, Gwynn was familiar with the physical aspect of human mating… At least in what the instructional books had to say about it… Yet Arthur's passion had showed her a glimpse of the reality and had let her peak into a whole new world of emotions and sensations that she was more than eager to explore… With _him_…

Caught up in the chaos of the only just discovered feelings, it dawned on the Princess she had not considered what it would be like to see Arthur again. The previous night, and as soon as they stepped back in the manor, Wledyr had hauled her to her room for a warm bath while scolding her for being so reckless with the cold. And she hadn't seen the Prince ever since.

_Should she act like nothing had happened and wait for him to take the lead? _

That did not seem like a good idea… Going by his regretful eyes—and his borderline annoying sense of duty in these situations—he would most likely apologize like yesterday, and promise not to let it happen again.

And _that _was _not_ what she wanted.

Or perchance would be best to deal with the entire issue up front and ask him to be her lover? _How would one ask about it? Should she hint it or say it directly?_

An upsetting thought crossed her mind… What if he denied her? If nothing else, out of propriety… She definitely wouldn't put it past Arthur to follow his honor rather than his wishes.

The Princess sighed in defeat... Admittedly, she had no clue how to deal with this. She wished Helene were there. Perhaps her friend would have some useful advice on the matter.

On second thought, Helene might very well side with the Prince on the 'honorable ways' of the royals and be appalled by the idea.

But… Would it be so wrong to give herself to the man she loved even if outside the wedlock?  
She would never love anyone else. She knew that much…  
Then, why should she deprive herself of experiencing 'true' love making just because destiny was not on her side?

Two big tears she did not know had pooled in her eyes rolled down her cheeks. He was so handsome… So tender and powerful at the same time… It had been inebriating to realize that those mighty hands that could destroy and kill so easily were also capable of caresses as delicate as the flight of a butterfly.

The sole recollection of the contradiction made her heart beat at an incredible pace, her stomach to go into a knot, and her hands to shake uncontrollably.

Just at that moment, as if knowing he was being observed, Arthur turned his eyes towards the window, wiping the watery drops from his brow with his sleeve. The Princess gasped startled and retreated immediately out of sight.

Her hands went to her neck and then to her cheeks… Her skin was flushed, hot and tingling…

A bitter chuckle that sounded more like a sob escaped her lips… How could she be so childish? Her involuntary reaction was too obvious to ignore: the mere possibility of being seen by him while only _thinking_ of it, had made her anxious and embarrassed…

Wishing she were 'worldlier' did not make her so. And the sad truth was that she would never gather the courage to say anything to Arthur… And, just her luck, there was a high likelihood he would never take the first steps either.

These were all only wishful thoughts… Silly romantic dreams of the newly awaken sensuality of an otherwise inexperienced woman. Dreams that would never crystallize anyway…

It was better to stop this and come back to reality. She sat on the chaise and opened her book.

The reading again failed to catch her attention, and in top of that, her eyes kept watering for no apparent reason. She closed them to stop the tears and reclined on the chaise… The sensory memory of what she had experienced the day before in Arthur's arms flooded her body with wonderful warmth and managed to soften the knot that her hopelessness had tied in her throat.

Deciding to indulge a bit more in those intoxicating reminiscences, Gwynn smiled at last. She'd go back to her reading later…

* * *

After avoiding the Princess the entire day, Arthur had to face the fact that they would meet sooner or later. It was an entirely new experience rather than to pursue Gwynn's company—as it had always been—childishly trying to keep away from her. Not a very royal behavior, he admitted, but given the circumstances, it had seemed like the best interim alternative.

Wledyr's intervention the night before had saved him from having to face the Princess—and Ennyny—at supper. He had used the diversion to retire to his room and ate alone.

Fortunately, for some reason Merlin had chosen to make himself scarce too. The Prince really had wanted to be alone… and he had his wish.

The training under the rain had helped, and had managed to lift his mood, which had been leaning towards the dark side in the morning after a night of very poor sleep.

Changed and dried, invigorated and in good disposition, he decided to look for the Princess at last, and headed towards the parlor.

When he reached his destination, Arthur stood at the door and drank in the beautiful image that was unexpectedly offered to him.

Finnabair was placidly sleeping on a chaise by the window. The rain had finally stopped and the last rays of the sunset showed timidly under a still cloudy sky. A golden aura surrounded her, making her look almost unreal.

Not wanting to disturb such magnificent picture, the Prince walked softly, wishing for the moment to last forever_. _She looked so peaceful…

Totally captivated, he kneeled next to the chaise and his eyes were caught in the book that lay on her lap. He did not recognize the language and wondered what that was, or if it could be even… magic?

Perhaps sensing his presence, she slowly awoke to find the Prince kneeling in front of her, looking pensively at her book.

All her previous turmoil magically disappeared in his presence and she was simply grateful to be with him. She had promised herself to take what she was given, no questions asked… And he was there; nothing else mattered… Her hand softly touched his cheek in a caress so light that Arthur did not know whether he felt it or just imagined it.

"Hello" she greeted quietly.

Coming back from his reverie, the Prince lifted his eyes and got lost in hers just like every time he looked into them… Everything he had pondered and decided during his sleepless night flew out the window.

Self-control was overrated and protocol just stupid. He smiled in return but did not answer. Instead, he reached behind her neck to bring her face leveled with his.

This time the electrifying sweetness of the kiss did not drift into the frenzy passion that their desire for each other always ignited. It lingered between their lips, unhurried and dawdling, reaching for their souls and accurately striking their hearts.

When they finally separated, each of them could clearly see their own confusion mirrored in the other's eyes. Something had been said without words during that kiss but no one was yet ready to understand it… or admit it.

Arthur found his voice first, wondering about what had happened to him right then... He had always found difficult to control his body when Gwynn was concerned… but this was even more puzzling… He was finding disconcertingly strenuous to control his feelings around her…

With no desire to dwell on such thorny subject matter, he dismissed his reflections and finally answered with a boyishly smile.  
"Hello…"

Blushing from head to toe at the stirring of emotions his kiss had set free, Gwynn swallowed hard and said nothing.

The cerulean eyes that she loved so much roamed through her face, silently studying her. The nasty bump on her forehead was all but gone. Frowning slightly, Arthur gently took her arms, lifting the sleeves to better inspect them. The bruises and cuts had also disappeared.

"Your wounds are healed…" He said after a moment in evident surprise.

" Wledyr" She smiled. "She is a healer…"

"Is that so?" An unmistakable hint of admiration sounded in the Prince's deep voice. "It seems that the family is quite… accomplished… Ennyny is a seer, Wledyr a healer…"

He stopped when Finnabair smile died on her face and she looked away, somehow serious. Had he said something inappropriate?

"Wledyr is not really Ennyny's granddaughter." Gwynn turned her big green eyes to him. "Wledyr's mother was a healer... in Camelot. She was accused of using magic and had to escape."

There was no reproach; no judgment in her voice; but the Prince became rigid nonetheless. Ever since Ennyny's disclosure, he had tried to make peace with so much wretchedness, but it seemed that no matter where he turned, his father's misdeeds would always haunt him.

The worst part was to reckon that Wledyr had not shown to hold any grudge against him whatsoever… She was being a friendly and good-natured hostess despite everything.

"I am sorry…" The words choked on his throat. Anger had slowly faded throughout the previous day giving place to an incipient sense of hope, which was once again washed away by the discovery of yet another one of his father's victims.

_How many more like her… _

Her cool, silky hands grabbed his reassuringly.  
"It is not your fault, my lord… And one day you will right all that wrong… I _know_ you will."She pulled on his hands forcing him to look at her. "You are you father's son, Arthur… But you are not your father."

Such conviction humbled him, and tightening his hold on her hands in retribution, he pressed them closer to him and kissed them reverently. Her faith was all the balm he needed.

_Amazing…_

Knowing that his mood was quickly growing dim, Gwynn decided to distract him and asked with a devilish smile.

"Now then, did you finally teach a lesson to that big, bad pole, my lord?"

The Prince's eyebrows shot up in amusement… Was she making fun of him now?  
In any case, the change in subject was much welcomed and he mutely thanked her for it. Donning his best arrogant smirk, he played along.

"I did. It was… difficult, but it finally understood not to cross paths with Prince Arthur…"

"I see… and what did the siding of the stables did to you my lord?"

The mischief shining in her eyes was priceless, and once again the Prince thought of throwing caution to the wind… only to thankfully overrule himself a second later and continue with the banter.

"It too dared to defy my royal command… I had to fill it with holes…"

"Well… Only one, if I recall correctly… I believe you kept hitting bull's eye from anywhere you shot." She tilted her head to the side. "Very impressive my lord."

_Oh, now you are complimenting me… _

But two other notions occupied his mind. The first, that she had been watching him and the thought alone exhilarated him… The second, that the warrior in her appreciated what she had seen… _That_ was an added flattering remark.

In any case, exhilaration, compliments and her mischievous eyes were a very bad combination as far as Arthur was concerned. It had been too easy to decide to remain unaffected by her charms while he had been alone last night.

Putting in practice that resolution, however, was a whole different deal… He needed to find a diversion, and soon, lest his resolve would crumble into pieces and he'd yield to his increasing urgency of kissing her again.

"What are you reading?"

The sudden change in topics seemed to work as she directed her attention back to her book, showing him the pages.  
"I am refreshing my Goidelic…"

Arthur moved next to her on the chaise and sat. "And Goidelic is…"

"The language of my foremothers…" And to answer the other unspoken question in his eyes, she explained. "Ennyny's request…"

"Oh…" He kept looking at the strange inscriptions. "Any particular reason for that request?"

The Princess sighed, absentmindedly turning some pages. "I am sure there is, but she didn't give me any, and..."

Knowing what she would say next, he chuckled and finished for her. "And of course you did not ask …"

Her laugh sounded open and content and washed over him like a clear stream over dried out soil. Soothing and refreshing.

_Breathtaking…_

It might have been his fascination, or perhaps some subconscious need to divert his attention from her lips. Whatever it was, the words came impulsively.  
"Would you teach me some?"

The genuine surprise and uninhibited delight of her smile made him glad he had asked.  
"Would you really like to learn, my lord?"

_Whatever it takes to distract me, my lady, so I can enjoy sharing time with you… without worry of compromising your virtue…_

Shutting down his devilish thoughts, he nodded, as serious as he could pretend to be. But once again, she chose to say the unexpected.

"On one condition, Prince…"

"Really, my lady? Are you bargaining with me now?"

"It is only fair…" Her impish grin was mercilessly killing his resolve. Not that he cared much at that moment.

"All right… what's your condition?"

By then, Arthur was silently praying for the 'requirement' to involve passionate kisses and perhaps even some private meeting, preferably in a seclude alcove… If she were to ask for it, then he certainly could not deny her and his conscience would be appeased…

"That you teach me how to shot with a long bow…"

Quite farther from his speculations it seemed… Arthur laughed genuinely amused and shook his head.

_Would she ever stop surprising him? _

Nevertheless, the idea of teaching her to wield a weapon became extremely appealing all of the sudden, and once again his senses—all of them—ignited. Her clear eyes, however, spoke of the innocence of her request, and so he tried with all his might to steer clear of his treacherous machinations.

"You have a deal, Princess. We will find a long bow that you can draw, and I will be happy to be your personal instructor."

"Perfect then!" Here… Let us start with this poem…" She opened the book and sat comfortably next to him.

The language was intriguing and—dared he say it—absolutely bewitching in her lips. Arthur cursed his luck and had to make a tremendous effort to focus on her explanation rather than in her voice, her perfume, and her nearness…

After a couple of failed attempts, he was able to finally direct his concentration to the task at hand and felt… well, just _happy_…

Time seemed to stand still as Prince and Princess embarked in an afternoon of reading, dialogues and laughs… Having completely lost track of the hours, Wledyr's arrival announcing supper abruptly brought them out of the small world they had unknowingly created.

"We will be there shortly, Wledyr. Thank you." Gwynn smiled.

Fully back on Earth, Arthur remembered and stood up promptly, moving towards Wledyr's before she could turn to leave.

"My lady…" He stopped her and grabbed her hand with a reverential gesture. "I just want to thank you for healing the Princess' wounds. I am forever in your debt, Wledyr."

The plump blonde blushed profusely, and taken aback by such gallant demonstration of gratitude, was unable to utter any word. Giggling nervously, she curtsied clumsily and left in a hurry.

When the Prince turned to offer Gwynn his arm, she was looking at him with unreserved admiration and approval. A loving smile curving her beautiful lips…

Arthur swallowed hard and froze. Something in his chest was fighting to break free… Right then, realization hit him like a tidal wave and he finally understood…

He was in love with Gwynn…

* * *

With the manor already in sight, Merlin spurred his horse to go faster. His brain felt mushy for too much thinking and the impeding sense of doom in his chest needed to be appeased. He knew that Ennyny could do that and he couldn't wait to speak with her. Myrddin's words were engraved in his memory.

"_Arthur needs to prove he truly is Camelot's best son… He has just been made aware of all his father's misdeeds but his heart must remain true. The only way to know for sure is for him to retrieve Fragarach. Ennyny will help you with that. The Prince must do the task alone… You cannot, must not, intervene…"_

Would Arthur have indeed been able to see past his father's lies and cruelty? Merlin wished he knew the answer. The Prince had been unusually reserved ever since the conversation with Ennyny. Even last night, he could have sworn his master had been avoiding him… At least, enough to not have required his services, not even at super…

Whatever it was that was occupying the Prince's mind was obviously something not only serious but very private; something Arthur had not desire to share with him at all…

"_The cradle of Albion is said to be the union of the raven and the dragon…"_

Gaius' interpretation of the old Goidelic manuscripts had been right on target. Leoness and Camelot together _were_ the first steppingstone of the route to the future great kingdom of Albion. The only remaining issue was _how_ to ensure that union.

Right now, his main preoccupation was to convince Arthur—in the most inconspicuous possible fashion—to retrieve the mystical sword Fragarach… Which, by the way, he had no idea_ where_ it was. But that was likely where Ennyny's help would come handy…

Hopefully.

The other issue—far more worrisome—was the disclosure that had thrown him off… Uther had a bastard daughter… and a sorceress no less. In any other circumstance, Merlin would have found the irony frankly amusing. However, going by what Myrddin had said, the situation was extremely serious.

"_Grave times are afoot, Merlin. Morgause has not given up on her claim of Camelot's throne. She is Arthur's half sister and Uther's bastard daughter… She will try once again and this time she might succeed…"_

In spite of his questions of the 'hows' and 'whens', neither Myrddin nor Kilgharrah had been able to provide more details. They were not seers, both had excused. The battle for the throne of Camelot had been foretold as part of Albion's prophecy… But no particulars of what it entitled had been given.

In the warlock's view, that meant that he had to keep an eye on anything suspicious while trying to convince the royals to marry and unite the land.

There were still so many things he wanted to ask… Trying once again to rearrange his qualms in order of urgency, Merlin decided that once he had made sure Arthur would endeavor in the retrieval of the mystical sword, he would visit Myrddin again.

Perchance after dinner—and most importantly after conversing with Ennyny—he should make a list of his questions and worries, lest he forgot some…

* * *

Supper started as a strange affair in many aspects. Gwynn was particularly talkative, trying to exorcise her exuberant happiness by chatting incessantly with Wledyr. The time spent with the Prince had been a delicious event that had sent her tender heart soaring, but she figured that bursting into a song—as she felt actually inclined to—would have been embarrassing and prompted too many questions.

Wledyr, in turn, could not look at Arthur without blushing. She was a simple maid, brought up in the middle of nowhere by her adoptive grandmother, and her contact with adult males—specially sophisticated and charming ones—had been virtually non-existent. Therefore, having been singled out by this magnificent Prince—and to thank her no less!—had shaken her to the core; and as much as she tried to act normal, her shyness got the best of her every time.

Ennyny was delicious as usual, interjecting some wise remarks here and there, all the time smiling knowingly. For all the pretenses going on at the table, no one could fool her… and everyone knew it.

Particularly Arthur, who hadn't spoken much—if any at all—and had remained completely immersed in his thoughts. The realization of his love for the Princess had literally rendered him speechless, and this time it did not matter to him the keen awareness that the old lady knew what was in his mind.

_How could he have been so blind?_

It had been always there, in plain sight, at yet he had chosen to ignore all the signs… He had chosen to think that it had been his wounded male pride that had prompted him to come to Leoness in search for answers…

Then, he had chosen to believe he had stayed in the Citadel to make sure she was safe… But at the end of the day, all those had been just pitiful excuses to escape the truth.

He was utterly, madly… desperately in love with her. And now he _truly_ had no idea how to go about his feelings.

Would she love him in return? Most likely… He had seen it in her eyes, even if he had chosen to ignore that too.

The future he had tried so hard not to think about came crashing down on him. He had even convinced himself that he could eventually marry her only out of duty and for her sake…

Confessedly, for once he had not dreaded his duty… The prospect of marrying this Princess—as soon as he had gotten to know her—had been… tempting to say the least. But he had always kept _love _out of the equation. Or so he had thought.

Whether it had been for fear to open his heart again or just plain obtuseness, it was irrelevant now… For all his worldliness, he had fell prisoner of this woman like an inexperienced adolescent. The best—or worst—part of all… She did not even know she had done so…

Surreptitiously, he glanced at Gwynn and found her eyes fixed on him. His throat contracted and he had to force his swallowing. Gods… if only…

Just when his mood began to turn dark at the thought of her reluctance to marry him, Merlin came into the dinning room, excusing his lateness.

"Merlin! My boy… I am glad you were able to join us. Come, dear, sit and eat. You must be tired of your journey. Did you have a pleasant trip? How is my good friend Myrddin faring?"

The wizard sat a bit confused at the avalanche of questions from Ennyny and smiled meekly to everyone at the table, trying to remember the inquiries to answer them in order.

"Not that much … And yes, thank you. He's well and send his regards…"

The Prince looked at him between annoyed and amused.  
"Your eloquence always amazes me Merlin…"

Before the warlock could rebut the pun, a full plate of food was placed in front of him and he immediately forgot everything else. He was starving!

Meanwhile, Ennyny decided to take charge of the conversation.  
"Finnabair, dear, have you been practicing Goidelic today?"

The Princess smiled. "You know I have, Nynny…" And looking at Arthur, she continued lightheartedly. "What you may not know, however, is that Prince Arthur was learning it too…"

Merlin _almost _choked on his food—Arthur learning languages was certainly something worth seeing—while Ennyny smiled meaningfully.  
"Is that so? Did you enjoy what you have learned, your highness?"

The use of his title and the cadence of her voice made Arthur think that she was not talking about Goidelic _at all_. All right then, no reason to deny it. She surely knew it anyway. However, he couldn't resist the temptation to answer ambiguously, attuned with her style.  
"Very much so, my dear lady. I would say that I find the discovery… startling…"

The eyebrows of the seer went up in candid admiration, her smile widening further.  
"I was right about you, Arthur. You will find that this… knowledge you have acquired today may prove of much importance in the future…"

The rest of the diners were watching in silence the cryptic exchange between Ennyny and the Prince. Gwynn reacted first. Whatever was that they were talking, it was obviously not about the language and she did not appreciate being left out in the dark. However, she knew that it was useless to ask her adoptive grandmother… and she wouldn't dare to query Arthur about it. That left her with only one possible course of action: change topics.

"The Prince will teach me how to shoot with a long bow in return." She announced, and Arthur had the inkling that she was annoyed; immediately surmising the reason, he bit his inner cheek not to smile.

The seer nodded, obviously amused.  
"And an excellent instructor you will have, my dear." Speaking to the Prince again, she commented loosely. "I understand that you master that old bow, your highness… And very impressively for what I've heard…"

The Prince chuckled, slightly embarrassed at the compliment… Another 'new', if someone asked Merlin, who was silently following the conversation while stuffing his mouth with the delicious dinner.

"I should have probably requested your permission to search your weaponry, my lady. I hope you can forgive me?"

"Oh… do not mention it, Arthur. You are most welcome." And continuing in the same casual tone, she added. "Since you are so fond of weapons, I wonder if you'd be interested in retrieving a special sword …"

At those words, Merlin effectively choked on his food, finally corroborating his theory that eating in the presence of Ennyny was positively a dangerous affair.

"Certainly…"

Arthur's response was interrupted when the seer's attention switched to his coughing servant.  
"Merlin, my boy… Are you all right, my dear?"

The genuine concern of the old lady made the Prince laughed out loud and the wizard to turn red. He drank avidly from his goblet trying to stop, and he had almost succeeded when the voice of Ennyny sounded in his head.

"_I know what you need to ask of me Merlin… I am simply facilitating things because we do not have much time… And we need to talk about your eating habits…"_

Red turned to crimson, and the embarrassed warlock shot an apologetic glance to Arthur, who was still chuckling and shaking his head in disbelief.

"I am fine, thank you." He finally mumbled.

Sobering up, the Prince glared at his servant, clearly warning about further interruptions and resumed his agreement.

"Certainly, my lady. What is this sword you'd like me to retrieve?"

Making a dismissive gesture with her hand, Ennyny continued speaking nonchalantly.  
"Oh, it's a sword that's supposed to be fit for a great King. It is said that after the final revolt against the invaders, many people claimed their right to rule the conquered land and internal battles ensued. Then, a great foreign warrior who had fought alongside the Silures, and whose blood had helped free the land, left his sword in a cave and dared the aspirants to the throne to recover it. Legend has it that the one who can wield it would be the rightful ruler of these lands…"

Everyone at the table had been following the story with utmost attention, completely absorbed by the tale. Arthur spoke next.

"And this… legend… Is it true or just folk tale?"

Ennyny drank slowly from her goblet, her smile widening at the unreserved curiosity in the young man's voice.

"The legend, I do not know…" She put her goblet down. "But the sword_ is_ real. I thought that perhaps you'd be interested…"

Arthur narrowed his eyes. There was something else to this lady's story that she was not disclosing. Nevertheless, the little he had learned from her during these past days had taught him that she would only reveal what she wanted; besides—and whatever her ulterior motive—it was going to be for the best anyway. He grinned and took the bait.

"And you know where the sword is…"

The smile of Ennyny turned downright mystifying.  
"Oh, yes… I know where the sword is…"

* * *

A/N: Did it live up to your expectations? :-)


	36. Chapter 36: The rise of a legend

SAME DISCLAIMER AS IN CHAPTER 1

Sorry for the long hiatus, but life has been busy and this chapter demanded a lot of work and research.

I hope its length makes up for the delay in the update :-)

I found that it is not easy to rewrite legends, by the way, and I hope you enjoy my take on it. I certainly did have fun writing it.

Anyway, I am eager to read your opinions, so please indulge me and review if you can.

And for those celebrating it: Happy Easter!

* * *

_**Chapter 36: The rise of a legend**_

Sitting on a small boulder near the fire, Lescaut extended his leg swallowing a grunt. Though much better, the wound still hurt and riding through the night probably hadn't help.

The bright moonlight had accompanied their trip right up to the moonset and as the night became darker, the cavalry had halted to rest the horses and wait for the nearing dawn.

Some knights were tending their mounts while others were gathered around the fire. With everything seemingly in order, Lescaut's thoughts drifted to Helene, careful to only recall the way she had felt in his arms and the suppleness of her lips… He really preferred not to dwell on his feelings right now.

His actions had surprised him so much, he was still unsure whether he had kissed her or simply dreamt about it. Maybe the latter… The last couple of days had been especially chaotic and his never-failing control had been put to an extreme endurance test.

Whatever the case, he would deal with the consequences of his actions once his Princess was finally safe. Somehow he knew that Helene would have also wanted it that way, and even if only in a small measurement, the thought lifted some of the burden from his soul.

Absentmindedly observing the camp, suddenly his attention returned to reality… There was something amiss, though he couldn't identify what… A moment later it became clear, and directing his attention towards Sir Leon, he asked without preamble.

"Wasn't there more of you …?"

The knight turned, first surprised at the abrupt question and then half-amused at the not-so-subtle attitude of the Leoness' captain.

"Indeed…" he smiled condescendingly. "Three of us remained in Leoness and left after our main company…"

Lescaut frowned, not liking the change in plans a bit. "And why would they do that?"

Another small smile—this time leaning towards the arrogant side—adorned Leon's handsome features. "We have our codes, Captain. And our orders…" He was obviously speaking of the Prince, but only offered, "Our comrades stayed behind to make sure we were not followed… Or to warn us about it, were that the case."

Lescaut eyebrows shot up in a mixture of realization and admiration. As much as he hated to admit it, there was much to learn from the Camelot knights and their commander. Not even his father had thought of that, apparently, but the seasoned warriors of Prince Arthur obviously knew their drills very well.

He only nodded, regretting having jumped to conclusions too soon, and was about to add something when two other knights from Camelot—one of them clearly just arrived—came to the fire and spoke directly to Sir Leon.

"We are being followed…"

* * *

"So, are you going to look for the sword Ennyny mentioned?"

Arthur finished donning the jacket Merlin was holding and nodded, wishing he had his chainmail. It felt strange going into a quest without it.

"I do not think anyone can say no to Ennyny on anything…" he mused, half joking, half serious.

Merlin agreed with a smile, wondering about his charge's demeanor. He had been concerned about the Prince quizzing him on his trip to Bryn Myrddin, but apparently his worries had been unnecessary. They had barely exchanged words after supper, and Arthur seemed to be totally immersed in his world.

Nevertheless, his curiosity got the best of him. "Are you all right?"

The Prince frowned, confused at the out of the blue question. Once again, and without apparent reason, Merlin had asked him that. What would make his eccentric servant think differently?

"Why wouldn't I be?"

_Good point_. The young wizard realized he couldn't just disclose all he knew about his master's past. Thus, he came up with another—admittedly not too clever—reason.

"You seem… quiet?"

A mocking smile adorned the Prince's otherwise stern face. "Because… I don't prattle like you do?"

"Well…" The warlock thought for a moment. "Yes."

Arthur chuckled and fixed his belt. "I prefer not to speak unless I can improve the silence, Merlin…"

He slapped his servant's shoulder in his way out. "You should try that sometimes…"

Merlin laughed… The bickering was still there, and as long as that was the case, he knew Arthur was all right. Perhaps things with the Princess were slightly rough at the moment—some lovers' quarrel of sorts—and that could very well be the reason.

In any event, he was obviously not going to get any other answer. Sighing loudly, he headed towards the kitchen. Freshly baked bread should be surely waiting for him.

* * *

Lescaut stood up with a start; only to regret it a second later when a pang on his leg reminded him that it was still not fully healed.

"Followed? What do you mean? Who…"

Leon made a gesture with his hand to let the recently arrived knight speak.

"A couple of hours after your departure, a party of the Stewards' personal forces left the Citadel. They are about one hour behind and they are keeping their distance."

"They do not mean to join us…" Sir Leon spoke before Lescaut, voicing the same conclusion.

"No, they do not."

The soldiers exchanged serious looks and Sir Reginald spoke again. "It gets worse… They outnumber us two to one at least…"

There was an uneasy movement in the camp, everyone immediately understanding the implications.

"But they do mean to overpower us…"

Assenting with a brief nod, Leon immediately added. "Then why haven't they attacked us already? They could have caught up with us by now."

Reginald agreed. "Exactly… and yet they had camped as soon as their scout reported you have done so… They are waiting for us to make the next move."

The silence in the camp became heavy with uncertainty, and after seconds that felt like hours, was broken once again by Leon.

"Have they seen you, or the others?"

"No. Oswald and Garth are posted and well hidden and I circumvented their camp far enough." Sir Reginald sighed tiredly. "They will, however, figure out their scout is missing eventually… He saw me as I was arriving here and I had to kill him."

Another uneasy movement ran through the gathering. The news was certainly unsettling and the situation was rapidly deteriorating.

Meanwhile, Lescaut's brain had kept working in overdrive trying to figure out Ruther's plans. At last, it came to him.

"The Steward wouldn't dare to simply attack the Prince's soldiers and risk a war."

All eyes were on him at once, so he continued, dreading his next words. "However, I wouldn't put it past him to do so if it meant getting something he wants even more…"

Sir Leon nodded, finally understanding. "The Princess."

* * *

The kitchen was is full swing with people and early breakfast but Arthur was indifferent to it. He had been studying the very old parchment and map Ennyny had handled to him, trying the best he could to hide his disenchantment.

The sword was supposed to be not far away, in the forest, inside a cavern of sorts… However, the markings were so faded, it was difficult to make them out; not to mention that most of the still readable—barely—inscriptions were in Goidelic, of all languages.

"The cavern would be well hidden." The seer was saying. "Not in vane has been kept secret for so long. I believe you will have to solve some form of riddle to discover the entrance."

The Prince was playing with the small mirrors she had also handed him. They were oddly shaped and concave. The so-called riddle would allegedly indicate how to use them to mark the position of the evasive cave.

As far as the Prince was concerned, this was certainly a fools' errand. He would definitely not shy away from the challenge; yet he knew his chances of success were slim to none.

In any case, he figured he had nothing better to do at the manor… other than to wait for Lescaut, mull over the unsettling discoveries about his past and his father—of which he was already weary—and restrain his actions around Gwynn; the latter ostensibly harder by the minute. Therefore, the adventure was welcomed, no matter how fruitless.

Speaking of futility, he was about to ask Ennyny about the riddle when Gwynn's voice made him turn towards the door.

"The day couldn't be more beautiful. Nothing like the rain to bring about the best Nature has to offer…"

The old lady smiled and Arthur instantly forgot his question, and possibly the entire conversation at the sight of the radiant grin of the Princess. Her soft blush told him she was also affected by his presence and, though pleased by the realization, his brain still refused to produce a coherent comment, or to notice her riding clothes for that matter. Fortunately, she greeted him first, providing precious seconds for his speech to return.

"Good morning, my lord."

"Good morning Princess."

Merlin was looking amused at the absurdly formal interchange. Someone should definitely tell them that they were too obvious so they'd stop pretending.

"_And are you going to tell them so, Emrys?"_

Of course… Ennyny knew. For once, he did not choke and merely smiled further before going back to his porridge.

"Are we ready?" Gwynn collected the mirrors to put them in her bag, when Arthur came out of his enthrallment and grabbed her wrist in a gentle but nonetheless firm grasp.

"What do you mean _we_?"

Her perfect eyebrows rose in surprise as if what he had asked was exceedingly evident. "I _am_ coming with you."

The warlock immediately recognized the Prince's blank expression. Arthur had no intention of taking the Princess and was not willing to yield… He bit his inner cheek trying to remain impassible. This was going to be fun.

"I do not think so, Princess."

Reading his intention correctly, Gwynn saw through the knight's assuaging charade and responded with the same faked sweetness.

"Then think again, Prince."

In Merlin's experience, there was nothing more effective to ignite Arthur's temper than having his decisions openly challenged. Surely enough, the phony smile of his master instantly morphed into a severe scowl.

"You are _not _going…"

"I beg your pardon?" Only one of her eyebrows arched this time, warningly.

Already riled and with no intention to delay his departure any longer, the Prince tried to grab the mirrors from her hand, but she clenched it tighter.

"Gwynn… It might be dangerous."

Alas, the conciliatory tone did not fool anyone and her icy reply also spoke of an unyielding resolution.

"I think I have proven to you that I can defend myself…"

With his patience virtually gone, Arthur's voice became downright commanding. "That is besides the point. I have not saved you so you can put yourself in danger again."

Bad choice of words.

Merlin knew it, Ennyny knew it; unfortunately it seemed that the Prince did not… Gwynn's eyes narrowed furiously.

"Are you implying that I should be _so _thankful that you have come to my rescue that I should remain forever bound to do your bidding?"

Oh, yes. That was fun. His charge was digging a hole around himself and Merlin was enjoying every minute of it.

Although Arthur had really liked the sound of her statement—particularly the part of forever doing his bidding—he didn't dare to voice it. Instead, he simply sighed in exasperation.

"Of course not! How can you say something like that? " And looking for an ally, the Prince turned to the seer. "My lady Ennyny… please, help me here…"

Shockingly, however, Ennyny deserted him without reservation and simply shrugged her shoulders. "You will need someone else, Arthur..."

Taken aback by such blunt… disservice, the Prince quickly recovered and produced a viable alternative. "Merlin will come with me."

Entertainment and breakfast instantaneously forgotten, the warlock looked up. How was it that he had been dragged into this without even saying a word?

He had hoped to speak at length with Ennyny about the things he had learned the day before… Not to mention he was _not_ supposed to aid Arthur in this quest, as sufficiently warned by Myddryn…

Fortunately, the seer came to his rescue. "He cannot. He had yet to relate the details of the errand he fulfilled yesterday upon my request…" She sipped her tea ceremoniously, as if enjoying the ongoing battle of wills. "Besides, the inscriptions in the map and the parchments are in Goidelic, and unless your progress with the language has been nothing short of miraculous, I think you'll need Finnabair."

Utterly appalled, Arthur grunted in frustration. "This is a confabulation!"

At this point of the events—and unable to restrain his amusement any longer—Merlin began to chuckle, but a glare from his master told him to stay out of it. Gwynn, on the other hand, had a smug smile on her face… She had won and the Prince was trapped.

Not one to give up so easily though, the Camelot heir spoke again in the regal tone he used when he wanted to prevent any objections.

"All right. But if you are coming with me there _will be _some rules." He stressed.

"Rules?"

"Yes. Rules." He paused briefly for effect. "Since you are a… walking target, there will be _no _horse racing. _No_ search for birds or lost springs…" The Princess was already opening her mouth to verbalize her outrage but Arthur beat her to it. "And, under any circumstances,_ no_ arguing with me."

"You…"

Once again, Ennyny leveled the field. "Arthur is right, Finnabair. You should do as he considers best."

Just like that, the smug smile changed faces and the Prince wore it arrogantly, enjoying his small victory… In return, the furious eyes also switched color and were now flashing green.

The old lady continued. "You two are burning daylight. You must reach the cave before high noon or you'll never find it. Go… Be careful and come back soon."

Understanding the pointlessness of further arguments, Arthur and Gwynn looked at each other silently making peace—somehow—and prepared to leave.

As soon as they were gone, Ennyny turned to Merlin, visibly excited. "Now my boy, I need you to tell me what you have learned from Myddrin about the broken Morrigans' line… Can it be fixed? "

* * *

"We need to change routes. We cannot have them following us to Caerfyrddin."

Lescaut's statement did not need further explanation. Riding there would mean not only to put the Princess' life at risk, but also to disclose the last safe haven of the royal lady.

"Should we attack them?" Sir Reginald offered, also knowing the worthlessness of the idea.

The silence that followed was answer enough. Attacking would achieve nothing and could risk too much. If they were defeated—however unlikely—everything would be lost, and that was a gamble no one was willing to take at that time.

"We are running out of time." Lescaut's impatience was mounting. "They will soon realize their scout is missing. We need a plan and…"

Throughout the debate, the veteran Sir Leon had been silent, thinking of all possible courses of actions and trying to decide the best one. At last he spoke, interrupting the Leoness captain's diatribe.

"We will split and try to lose them."

The idea seemed naïf and impractical to most of them. They were scarcely more than a dozen and the division would only weaken them. With all eyes on him, the knight turned towards Lescaut, who was frowning and ready to voice his disagreement.

"Is there another route to Caerfyrddin. An indirect one?"

The frown on the young captain transmuted into a quizzical expression… What was Sir Leon driving to?

"There is an alternate path" He nodded. "But it would extend the journey possible by a day. The last time my father took us through the forest to ensure we would not be followed. Not far from here, there is a spring that spawns into several streams. One of those opens to the sea just east of the manor."

Leon's taut expression had been softening as he was listening to the description. Maybe his plan had more chances of success than he had first thought…

"Go on…"

"I believe I might be able to take you through there… and if the intention is to lose them, I cannot think of a better place…" A bit more enthusiastic, the young captain elaborated. "We can even hide our trail on the water. If memory serves me right, the flow should be shallow enough."

"That is excellent. Show me the path…" Leon handed him a stick signaling the ground, and the royal guard began drawing a schematic on the soft sand.

"We are here and the manor is here…" Lescaut explained marking the spots on the ground. He then proceeded to trace the alternate route following the stream.

"Even better…" Leon spoke again looking at the paths. "If we leave confusing trails, they may even choose to follow the other river. It would be a while until they realize we've lost them and that might buy us enough time to reach Caerfyrddin and the royals."

Everyone was in agreement. Although somehow improvised, the plan had more chances of success than thought at first. Moreover, it was certainly better than any of the other options at hand.

"In any case," Lescaut reasoned. "We should probably keep moving, though slower at first so they can pick up our new trail. We cannot risk either letting them know we are aware of their presence… nor to continue through this route, which would take them directly to Caerfyrddin."

Reginald and Leon exchanged a knowingly look. Despite of his youth and somehow short temper, the Princess' guard was undoubtedly very sharp; and he was right.

"Go back to Oswald and Garth and let them know of our plan." Leon addressed Reginald. "We will gather on this point." He marked a location on the makeshift map on the ground. "Make sure to meet us there."

The knight nodded and squared his shoulders, closing his right fist over his heart in salute.

"Be safe my friend."

And with Leon's farewell, the stealthy soldier disappeared once again.

* * *

Against his wishes, Arthur had to internally agree that bringing Gwynn along had proven more than helpful. The map was deceivably simple… and was_ completely_ wrong.

In the first bifurcation, he would have surely taken the obvious route following the drawing. However, the Goidelic inscription next to it—_an anagram no less!—_ instructed them to take the other one. After that, in two other occasions the Princess' interpretation of the captions had pointed their path to the opposite direction that the one supposedly indicated by the chart.

It was clear that the map was intended to be deciphered by someone not only with sufficient knowledge of the strange language, but also literate enough to understand and solve anagrams.

_Someone highly educated. _

That stratagem alone had surely been an excellent way to protect the mystical sword from undeserving hands… The Prince knew well that literacy was still scarce in the lands, and could only fathom that centuries ago would have been even more rare…

Once again, it was apparent that Ennyny had everything meticulously planned. Arthur smirked. Having known the seer for only a few days—actually hours to be exact—he could not help but to feel absolutely captivated by her antics and endless wisdom…

Turning towards his riding companion, Arthur saw the Princess conscientiously studying the map with an adorable frown on her brow. She had barely spoken, except for when it was necessary, and he knew she was still partially mad at him. Rather than feeling guilty, however, he found himself enjoying every minute of it.

Winning an argument with this lady was certainly not a common occurrence, and for once, he had gotten the upper hand and she had been… forced—he figured the term applied—to bend to his wishes; more precisely, _his rules._ That suited him perfectly.

As an added benefit, the current adventure helped to deviate his attention from his recently discovered feelings towards the Princess. Although he had decided to seriously speak with her about what was in his heart, the truth was that he had no idea how to breach the subject. Being with Finnabair like this was certainly a more than welcome substitute—albeit a temporary one—to the thorny subject of their uncertain future.

The last thoughts were threatening to damp his previously uplifted disposition, and were luckily interrupted by her next words.

"I think we have arrived…"

Looking around in confusion, the Prince sighed in disappointment. "There is nothing here…"

* * *

The anxious soldier finally reached the Steward's forces. He'd been sent as a replacement for the missing scout but couldn't find him anywhere. He had next followed what he thought were the tracks of the knights and failed at it too. At that point, running away seriously crossed his mind, since going back to Gallau's squadron would have certainly meant forfeiting his life…

Then his luck had seemingly changed.

After losing the trail of the Camelot party—and already desperate—he had gone around in circles trying in vain to pick up the track when, out of nowhere, he had bumped onto the trail of other riders. Hopefully,_ that_ would earn him clemency from the commander.

As soon as he stepped into the clearing, Gallau went to him wasting no time to make his impatience known.

"You are despicably late! Where are they going?"

"I am not sure, sir. The trail fades over the stream… They wandered into the forest apparently… But they must have gone by the water, as there are no tracks…"

Just as the scout had feared, the commander's temper flared.

"Do you mean to tell me we have _lost _them?" he roared grabbing the man by the throat.

Finding breathing difficult, the soldier nodded, his eyes panicked. In an effort to save—literally—his neck, he choked.

"But I… I've spotted the Camelot Prince, sir… and Princess Gwynn..."

Gallau let go of the man as if his hand had suddenly burnt and swallowed hard. He had not expected, possibly not even want to hear that. He really would have preferred to remain hidden as a watchdog.

Things were becoming quite complicated, and it seemed that Ruther's suspicions had been correct. Gurgeneu had obviously failed and by then, the Princess and the Prince were most likely aware of the Steward's conspiracy.

Assassinating the royals was a sordid deed, one that he had been hoping _not_ to be forced to execute. Not to mention that killing the Camelot heir would mean to unleash the wrath of Uther Pendragon on them.

Then again, it was his head that was at stake. And when all was said and done, if the Steward had been astute enough to foresee this, he might have had an alternate plan as well.

"Where?"

"A couple of miles to the north. They are alone."

"And what's the last direction you picked from the Camelot knights before you lost them?"

"Going west."

At least some decent news. Perhaps they could make it look like an attack of bandits.

Yes. That was a good idea. Gallau called on his next in command.

"Take a handful of men with you and kill them. Make it look like a robbery. We will follow shortly."

From the distance, Sir Oswald noticed the split in the Steward's force and went back to Sir Reginald.

"It seems as if they have stopped following our party… A group of them is now heading north."

Sir Reginald narrowed his eyes. That was unexpected… and dangerous.

"They might have spotted something." He turned to the third knight. "Garth… go and advise Sir Leon of what's going on. Hurry up. We'll follow the smaller party to see where they are headed."

* * *

Contrary to the initial notion, the royals soon discovered that there _was_ indeed _something_ behind the bushes.

Down the hill, and partly hidden by the forest and the morning mist, they could see a large paved circle surrounded by eight enormous pillars. Grass had grown relentlessly through the multiple cracks of the stony floor, but it was still visible.

"Isca Silurum…" Gwynn murmured in awe.

Already taken aback by the massive appearance of the ruins, Arthur was further surprised that she would recognize it. "Do you know this place?"

"Only by name…" She continued in a slow, reverential tone. "My mother used to tell me tales of it… But I thought it was just a legend…"

"We need to get down." The Prince stated. "Whatever we need to find, it should be there."

They dismounted and continued on foot. The way down was not easy and it would have been impossible for the horses to negotiate the steep hillside, slippery with moss and recent rain.

At the bottom, their surprises continued. In the middle of the bigger circle—which looked even larger from where they stood—there was a smaller, stranger one. It was also parted in eight sections, each bearing an odd symbol engraved in the rock.

Kneeling on the ground, Gwynn used her hand to clear the dust and weeds from one of the marks. Her sharp intake of air caught Arthur's attention but before he could ask about it, she had moved to the next marking, doing the same, and then to a third one.

"Oh, Gods…"

Effectively intrigued, the Prince moved closer and looked at the embossed inscription. It did not tell him anything.

"What is it?"

"Unbelievable…" She could barely speak amidst her amazement. "These markings… I've seen them before…"

"Where?"

"The round table…"

"Round table?"

Standing up again, the Princess cleaned her hand on her dress, visibly shaken. "In Eleara… There is a room with a round table in it, which exactly resembles this inner circle …" And looking at the puzzlement on the Prince's face, she knew she would have to elaborate. "My mother told me that one of my ancestry lines comes from the Silures. Do you know of them?"

Very much confused, Arthur nodded. He had heard stories about the legendary clan of locals that challenged the foreign invaders centuries ago, resisting admirably, never to be conquered. Gwynn continued.

"My mother said that the table in Eleara was a tribute to their history, built a long time ago to remember how the Silures survived the great conquest undefeated. She said that they had a very wise social structure without king or lord. Rather, a council of equals tended to the government. They would sit in a circle like this one, and everyone was allowed to speak their mind. Decisions were made with the contribution of all… _That_ was their strength." She shook her head in incredulity. "For many years I thought those tales were just stories my mother invented to feed my avid imagination." And looking at Arthur with undisguised emotion, she finished. "This… this is part of my past…"

Inhaling deeply, the Prince gently grabbed her shoulders and embraced her ever so daintily, lending his body for support and comfort. Even though her words had only further his confusion to a point of dizziness, he knew Gwynn needed him at that moment and thus his questions could wait.

After some minutes of solemn silence, he spoke against her hair, between surprised and amused. "Perhaps Ennyny had ulterior motives to send you with me…"

The tacit implication made Gwynn smile over his chest, and her muffled chuckle told the Prince she was thinking along the same lines.

They would have time to reflect on this later. But noon was fast approaching and they had yet to find the sword.

That was, if there was a sword; Arthur pondered. Maybe this trip was just a machination of the seer to have_ him_ escorting the Princess to find a piece of her lineage. He definitely wouldn't put it past the crafty old lady.

Tenderly kissing her forehead, he decided to keep moving. "Now then… What else does the parchment say?"

Still a bit dazed by the discovery, Gwynn moved back and translated the writings.

"_A great leader channels glory into the company, not the self. He looks in the mirror and at himself._"

No one spoke for a moment, both trying to think what it could mean. The Princess pulled the mirrors from her bag.

"Would these hold the key then…?"

Grabbing one of them, Arthur inspected it carefully. _Mirrors and a light of sunshine at high noon… _The idea seemed plausible.

"We might need to position the mirrors in some specific locations before noon… But where?"

For all she knew, that was a rhetorical question for which there was no discernible answer yet. Squeezing her brain trying to make sense of it all, Finnabair kept playing with a mirror on her own when the reflection of one of the marks jolted her memory.

"Prudence…" She whispered so low the Prince didn't hear her.

Moving some steps away to the next mark, she put the mirror in top of it. Surely enough, the reflection made sense again.

"Mercy…" She read, this time louder.

By then, her actions had definitely captured Arthur's attention. "What is it?"

"The marks…" She smiled triumphantly. "I can read them through the mirrors… They are Goidelic symbols… in reverse."

In two strides the Prince was standing next to her. "What do they say?"

She went around the circle, reciting the rest: "Temperance… humility… justice… endurance… devotion…" Finally stepping on top of the last one. "And courage..."

_Prudence, mercy, temperance, humility, justice, endurance, devotion and courage…_

Astonished, both immediately recognized the inscriptions. Those were virtues from the chivalric code of honor. It made sense that the circle—built by the fierce warriors that managed to keep the invaders at bay—would encompass them.

It was in that moment that the Prince had his epiphany. _A leader looks in the mirror and at himself._

_That_ was the riddle and Arthur immediately realized this was _his_ test.

They had four mirrors… Therefore, out of all those virtues, he would have to choose four. And only the right answer would open the entrance to the cave.

As usual, Ennyny had known exactly what she was doing. Finnabair was there to help him understand the symbols, but the choices were _his _and only his.

High noon was nearing and—though not fond of riddles or mind games—the Prince knew he had to make a decision quickly.

_So be it… _

If he had to choose, which four of the eight virtues would he really want to master to be a good King? Better yet… a _great leader_ as the parchment said.

_Courage_ was his first option. Any great leader should have it in spades. Courage meant forbearance and the ability to confront fear and uncertainty. He put the first mirror on top of the mark without hesitation.

Moving on, he pondered on _temperance_. That seemed like a proper choice as well. His short temper had been his worst enemy more times than the cared to count. Thus, it stood to reason that no other virtue could be sustained if he had the inability to control himself and his own desires. He signaled Finnabair to put another mirror over that mark.

Quietly, the Princess did as requested, all the while experiencing a sense of wonder the likes of which she had never felt before. Despite her ongoing bewilderment, Gwynn had the keen intuition that she had been made privy to a _very _significant occasion: Arthur's choices were revealing the future King that he would one day be… and she mutely thanked the Gods for giving her the privilege of being there with him.

Oblivious of what was going through her mind, Arthur kept busy with the task at hand. There were two more to go, and his next option came naturally to him at the thought of his father.

_Justice_. He would be a fair leader, something that his father was not. King Uther was a feared and resented ruler, and the Prince knew he would inherit a heavy load of hatred towards Camelot's throne because of it. Once in power, he would need to amend many of his father's wrongdoings, and for that he would have to render to each and all what was due to them. The third mirror found its place on the ground.

Finally, it was one left. The options had multiplied, however, since he had to choose only one out of the five remaining, all equally desirable virtues in a leader.

Which one would that be? This last decision was difficult and time was running out.

"_You have a good heart, Arthur. Listen to it." _Ennyny had said_,_ but he wished he had her confidence. Having her wisdom wouldn't hurt either in such circumstances…

A ghost of a smile appeared in his handsome face. He just had wished he had… _wisdom._

Would the seer have planned _everything_? Somehow he guessed he would never know that for sure. In any case, and whether purposely or not, Ennyny had helped him with his last choice.

After all, _prudence _would be able to rule over all others virtues too… Arthur briefly wondered why he hadn't chosen it first and instead had picked 'courage' with absolute conviction.

The answer came to him almost immediately: courage was something with which he was familiar. Nonetheless, he had to admit that there had been instances when his 'untamed' courage had bordered plain recklessness. It then became clear to him how much he had yet to learn… With _prudence_, thus, he hoped one day being able to master them all.

At last, he placed the remaining mirror over the mark and sighed. If he was wrong, let it be so. In his heart, however, he sensed it was right.

Only then he looked back where Gwynn was standing and was startled by the unabashed admiration shining through her eyes. The sight alone made him almost blush.

"What?"

The Princess spoke with a low voice, full of a barely concealed emotion. "I believe you have chosen the cardinal virtues, my lord."

Somewhere in his mind the word rang a bell… He hadn't been aware of it, but now that she had mentioned it, he loosely remembered his old tutors' philosophical teachings. Gwynn was right: _prudence_, _temperance_, _justice_ and _courage_ were indeed the four cardinal virtues…

Fully embarrassed by the obvious lack of attention he had paid to his studies during his youth, he tried to think of something to say to save some dignity in front of Finnabair, but did not have the chance.

It was already high noon and a ray of sunshine directly hit the first mirror on the ground, shooting its reflection to the second, and the third, and the last one. The four reflected rays then came to a conjunction, and the brighter beam shoot up over some brushes, refracting on a speck of quartz on a large boulder. An instant later, everything disappeared.

Arthur walked slowly towards the boulder and put his hand over the spot that the light had marked a moment ago. With a heavy noise, the huge rock moved, tipped to one side, and rolled off the mound.

* * *

Ennyny opened her eyes from her nap, visibly panicked. Her breath was coming in short gasps and she called for Wledyr, who immediately rushed to the parlor, very much worried by the unusually frightened call.

"What is it grandmother? Are you all right?"

The seer frantically grabbed her hand; her lifeless eyes widened in fear. "Finnabair… Finnabair and Arthur are in mortal danger Wledyr… We must send for help!"

"Calm down… calm down…"

In spite of her soothing words, Wledyr felt her blood freezing in her veins. She knew that her grandmother rarely had visions of imminent events. The gift of the seer was to foresee distant, potential futures, rather than upcoming incidents.

Only once before she had seen Ennyny in that state, and although she had been young when that happened, the images were still imprinted in her memory… It had been the day that Finnabair's family had died…

"What can I do? Tell me…"

Trying to settle down a bit, Ennyny drank the water her granddaughter was offering.

"Merlin…"

* * *

The Prince stepped back in surprise. He had just laid his hand on the spot and yet the boulder moved out as if he had pushed it with all his might. He turned around and smiled at the child-like excitement on Finnabair's face. His own heart was beating faster in anticipation.

Recovering quickly, though, he moved to the cave. "Stay here…"

His bidding stopped the Princess in her tracks and she opened her mouth, ready to protest. The arched eyebrows of the Prince, however, silently challenged her to say another word.

_Right… the rules…_

Annoyed, she crossed her arms on her chest and remained on her spot while an amused Arthur disappeared inside. After walking for a couple of yards, the Prince noticed that the cave made a sharp turn left and then down, and without the benefit of the exterior's radiance, it was pitch black. He would need a torch.

Outside again, he soon found a wooden log that could be of use. Unfortunately, everything was still wet from the previous day's rain and it would be quite difficult to light it. The Princess, meanwhile, was observing him curiously.

"What is it?"

"It's too dark inside… I need a torch."

Gwynn smiled. That was her opportunity. With a flip of her hand, she kindled the branch like she usually did with the candles.

Busy with his search for something to ignite the fire, Arthur did not notice anything until the crackling of the burning wood made him look at the other end of the log still in his hand. It was burning.

Surmising what she'd done right away, he smiled. "That's certainly handy."

A second later, however, the flame disappeared. The Prince shot a confused glance at Gwynn, and when he saw her grinning complacently, his eyes narrowed in clear warning.

"What are you doing?"

"I can light it again… if you let me come with you."

"You are _not_ bargaining your way in…" he frowned.

"Suit yourself." Shrugging her shoulders, she sat back on a boulder. "It is your time we are wasting… With only wet wood laying around, I imagine it will take more that a couple of sparks to ignite anything… "

Looking at the sky in a silent pray for patience, Arthur finally sighed in defeat and conceded.

"All right… You can come…" And with a devious smirk dancing on his lips, he forewarned. "But I am not carrying you if there are crawling creatures in the cave…"

Happy with her victory, Gwynn had already reached his side when his words brought her to a standstill.

"Crawling creatures…?"

Arthur smiled even more deviously, but his voice maintained the same casual tone. "Well… It's a cave that has been closed for centuries after all. Could you please light up the torch?"

Still reeling from the idea of the prospective inhabitants of the cave, Gwynn did as she was asked and the wet wood crackled again with flames. She smiled nervously.

"What do you think lives in there?"

The nonchalant response of the Prince did not help at all with her apprehension. "Nothing major I hope… Except perhaps some snakes… probably rats…" He had to swallow a smirk while watching her disgusted expression grow. " And spiders…"

"Spiders?"

Nodding with fake seriousness, his eyes opened wider to stress the picture. "Possibly big ones…"

Her downright repugnance was absolutely priceless… Who would have thought that the warrior Princess would be afraid of spiders?

_Women…_

Arthur finally moved in, shaking his head in amusement. As much as he was enjoying the situation, they were wasting precious time.

"Don't worry… I'll make sure you don't step on any…"

They descended in the cave for several moments until they got to a fairly large niche… Right in the middle, there was a sword embedded in a stone.

"Well… that's the end of our journey." Arthur sighed, sheathing his own weapon. "Either Ennyny did not know of it, or she failed to mention that we will need an army of drillers to get the sword out."

Gwynn ignored his sarcastic comment and instead focused on the Goidelic inscriptions carved on the rock.

"_I was once called Fragarach. My blade Caladcholg was forged in the hearth of these lands, blessed with the blood of their people. He, who deserves me, will pull me free and unite the tribes. He who is undeserving, will burn with my fire." _

Next to her, the Prince was carefully inspecting the sword. "It is certainly magnificent…" He murmured. Then he noticed the engravings. "The blade has inscriptions too…"

Redirecting her attention to where he was pointing, the Princess read out loud. _"Qui audet adipiscitur…"_

"He who dares, wins …" Arthur translated, almost mechanically.

"Do you know the language of the invaders?"

There was more than a hint of surprise in her voice, and the knight complained pretending to be affronted. "You really must think me a rustic, brute warrior Princess…"

"Of course not! I did not mean…"

But he chuckled dismissively, still absorbed at the sight of the sword. "Truth is, many books from where I studied were written in that language…"

Inwardly berating herself for her unfortunate words, Gwynn looked down fully embarrassed. Meanwhile, Arthur's eyes remained fixated on the exquisite carvings of the hilt.

His gaze darted back to the inscription: "_He who dares, wins…" _

The maxim seemed oddly appropriate. After all he had made it this far. Thus, why not? Handling the torch to Finnabair, he grabbed the sword.

As soon as his fingers closed on the grip, a beam of blinding light shot out the slit on the stone illuminating the entire niche. Arthur easily pulled the blade out, amazed beyond words.

The sword seemed to shine on its own, the centuries' old erosion instantly fading. Out of reflex, he tried the cutting edge and his finger bled. It was perfectly sharp.

_Outstanding…_

There were inscriptions on the other side of the blade too and he read them, reverentially. _"Spectemur agendo…" _

In total amazement, Gwynn's eyes found his and they both translated in unison. "By our deeds we are known…"

The fascination gleaming in her eyes was as blinding as the light itself, and Arthur had to make a herculean effort to resist kissing her right there. He needed to find the way to tell her about his feeling, but somehow—and though not an expert in romanticism—his intuition hinted that a humid, musty cave was possibly not the best stage.

He lowered the sword and the brightness disappeared. "Let's go."

* * *

Merlin did not know what had happened. One minute he had been riding like the devil was on his tail; the next the air had been sucked out of his lungs by a massive blow; and now a sword was at his neck. Would he dare to open his eyes?

"Merlin!"

The sound of his name effectively prompted his eyelids to open and he was relieved beyond words at the sight of a surprised familiar face.

"Sir Leon!"

Recovering soon, the knight pulled him to his feet. "What are you doing here?"

"I was going to warn Arthur…"

Sir Leon frowned and grabbed his shoulder, urging him. "Speak at once Merlin. These are dangerous times."

"The Prince and the Princess are in the forest not far from here I think. The mistress of the house is frantic with fear. She had a vision… They are in danger."

Although disjointed and seemingly incoherent, his explanation made complete sense to everyone around.

Sir Lescaut spoke next, his tone full of anxiety. "Where are they?"

But before Merlin could answer, Sir Garth arrived from what had obviously been another breakneck ride.

"The Steward's forces had stopped following your trail. They must have spotted something and they're heading north."

In spite of the fact that the warning explained the imminent danger, it was still confusing for the warlock but he didn't have time to say anything else.

Immediately mounting again, Sir Leon ordered him. "Go back to the house, Merlin. We'll take care of this."

The young wizard doubted for a second. He was worried for his master, but Ennyny was very agitated and Wledyr was alone with her. He was trying hard to decide where his presence would be more needed when the voice of Kilgharrah sounded in his head.

"_The seer needs you more, young warlock. Time is of essence and you have yet much to learn. You need to go to her. For once, you should do as I say."_

* * *

They had only moved a couple of steps out the entrance, when a threatening rumbling coming from the inside made them look back. To their further astonishment, the cavern was rapidly collapsing and in a matter of seconds, there was nothing left.

Letting out a long breath he did not know he had been holding, Arthur spoke.

"I suppose we should have been expecting something like this…" And turned to her. "Are you all right?"

Gwynn nodded, hardly shocked though. In hindsight, and with the overly bizarre chain of events of the day, the collapse of the cave was not even noteworthy. Her eyes went to the sword. Finally they would be able to take a better look...

Following her gaze, the Prince moved to swing the blade, further amazed at its daunting wheezing sound. Absolutely engrossed with his new weapon, he tried some more movements.

It was perfect. The balance, the weight… Wielding it made him feel almost… _invincible_; as absurd as the idea surely was.

Lost in his musings, he looked at Gwynn who was smiling with a mixture of approval and mischievousness. As soon as he halted his practice spellbound by her eyes, she purposely walked towards where he was standing, and stopped only mere inches from him.

For a moment, Arthur thought she was going to kiss him and his mouth dried out… Only to realize a second later that she had unsheathed his regular sword in one swift motion.

"Care for a sparring my lord?"

He didn't know what it was more frustrating, if the fact that she hadn't kiss him or that he could never anticipate her movements. But he had to laugh…

"Of course not."

"Oh… come on." She taunted. "You have the advantage of the mystical sword… Surely you can't be afraid, can you?"

"Baiting my pride won't get you anywhere my lady. We shall return. You know the rules…"

Scoffing flippantly, the Princess swirled _his _sword around. "The rules did not say anything about sparring…"

She charged forward and he blocked the strike. "We are _not _doing this Gwynn."

Quick on her feet, she turned around and sent another blow, which he also stopped deftly. "We_ are_ going home."

The Princess stepped back a little, measuring him... Then, she challenged.

"Do you think you can make me?"

Arthur pondered his options. He could easily disarm her…Maybe_._

Or, he could indulge in the temptation and teach her an overdue lesson at the same time…

As wonderful as the latter idea was—_specially_ teaching her a lesson—he did not want to spend any more time in the forest than absolutely necessary.

In that precise instant, however, his warrior's instincts prickled and he looked around, his entire body in alert. He hastily grabbed her arm.

"Hide."

"What?"

A strong pull sent her flying over a boulder and she landed heavily on the floor, next to him.

"Ouch! Brute!"

"Shush… We're surrounded."

Inconspicuously peeking from behind some leaves, she saw his uncle's mercenaries coming down the hill through the forest and advancing towards their hideout.

"They found us!" The hushed tone couldn't completely disguise her obvious alarm. "How?"

Too strung to worry about irrelevant details, the Prince did not answer, his brain was quickly processing the odds.

Four men finally appeared in the clearing and one of them spoke out loud. "They should be close. Their horses are near… Look around."

"Maybe we can take them…" Gwynn whispered.

But Arthur shook his head. He had spotted more coming down the hill.

"They are too many." He signaled and she saw them too.

"What do we do then?"

The Prince spoke calmly and almost absentmindedly, his eyes scanning the area for possible ways out. "If there was ever a time to try your full powers, Princess, I suggest you do it now."

She looked at him as if he had lost his mind. "What? They are not candles… or wooden logs!"

Her terrorized eyes confirmed what Arthur had already surmised… She was _truly_ afraid of her powers. If there had been any doubts left about her honesty—which there wasn't—her sarcastic and nervous statement had erased them for good.

In any event, their odds were very bad. He couldn't take all of them… and he was not about to let her fight. Just his luck, Gwynn seemed to have been reading his thoughts, and to his ultimate annoyance she categorically stated.

"I _am_ fighting."

"No, you are not. It's too dangerous."

"Oh, and I suppose that sitting here and waiting for them to kill you is safer? Really, your highness, for such seasoned warrior you don't seem to be too good at weighting the odds…"

"I told you already, insulting my pride will not get you anywhere. Not now at least. You are not fighting and that's the end of it."

Perhaps her sharp intake of air should have been a hint. Her tone, however, was deceptively calm.

"And what do you propose then?"

"There is an opening over there..." He pointed. "I'll buy you some time. You'll run as fast as your feet can take you. The horses should not be far. Ride hastily and do not look back."

Too distracted assessing the situation, Arthur did not notice the abrupt change in her expression. The memory of her mother's last words struck her with full force after so many years, sucking the air our of her lungs. She would _never_ heed them again.

Nevertheless, and amidst her turmoil, she also knew it would be useless to argue the point with the stubborn Prince. After a pause to recompose herself, she acquiesced.

"All right."

Having been expecting a strong opposition, Arthur had even been contemplating the idea of tying her up in their small hideout to ensure she wouldn't do something reckless. He lifted one eyebrow and studied her. It was obvious she had another plan…

"Finnabair…" His voice carried the same warning as his eyes.

"I said _all right_ Arthur! Sometimes there is just not pleasing you, is there?"

The impatience of her reply made him smile in spite of the circumstances, and the Prince doubted his sanity. They were more likely to meet their fate there, and he was finding the situation with her frankly amusing. He shook his head and regained his focus.

"Fair enough… On the count of three I'll jump out and when they come to me, you run… Understood?"

She nodded and moved around, crouching, to position herself in front of the path she should follow.

"One…"

Firmly grabbing his sword, Gwynn took a deep breath, her eyes trained on the forest. Arthur looked at her profile, absurdly thinking he would've wanted to have one last look at her face. Perhaps even a last kiss. But since she was concentrated on her race, so be it. Her safety was his only concern…

"Two…"

Without warning, Gwynn jumped out of their cover leaving Arthur dumbfounded one second, and cursing inwardly the next.

_That woman did not know how to count! _

Her sudden movement effectively caught the attention of the two mercenaries on the right, who immediately followed her into the forest. In the confusion, some of the other soldiers came into view, giving Arthur a better chance to surprise them.

Then hell broke lose…

Relieved that at least she had gotten away, Arthur used the boulder to protect his back, and by virtue of the fantastic sword, managed to defeat everyone who dared to approach him.

However, as more soldiers began to pour out of the forest, he knew he wouldn't last too long. It was obvious that, though a sizeable one, this had been only a scouting party; the larger force was likely fast approaching.

Just when he thought the end was near, Gwynn reappeared and joined the fight. The momentary shock at her unexpected return almost cost him dearly, but her opportune intervention prevented the enemy sword to find its mark.

Fully recovered from the surprise, rather than thanking her the Prince swore between teeth. She had not only disobeyed him… She had known _exactly _what to do and had risked her life so he would have a better chance… If he weren't so sure he would die soon, he would lock her up in a tower and threw the key away so she would _never_, _ever_, scare him like this again.

"I told you to go away!" He yelled between strikes.

"And I did…"

Her casual reply only enraged him further. "Do not mock me woman! I _did not_ tell you to came back!"

She was holding her ground quite well and seemed perfectly at ease dodging and delivering lethal blows. Her next matter-of-fact statement was proof enough of that.

"We'd have a better chance together…"

It was true, actually. They were systematically defeating the arriving soldiers who, fortunately, were coming down from the hill in scattered numbers due to the steep slope surrounding the ruins.

But Arthur couldn't care less at the moment, as he was having a nightmarish déjà vu of yet _another_ fight in which he would have rather been twisting her gorgeous neck than killing his opponents.

"For once in your life… do as you are told!" His fury had turned him into a raging tornado of death, and his adversaries were falling left and right.

She dealt a mortal strike to yet another foe and shouted back, equally infuriated. "I'm not leaving you here. This is my fight, not yours!"

The ensuing argument came to a halt when the sound of approaching hooves reached their ears. Up the hill, the mercenary main squadron was already visible and ready to come down…

They were certainly doomed. The Prince's eyes told her that much, but in that same instant, the red-capes of the Camelot knights appeared behind the Steward's force.

Both royals looked at each other and smiled, charging again with renewed spirit. While they finished the soldiers that had reached the bottom, the Camelot knights did their part over the hill.

Shortly after the fight was over.

Once the rogue forces were subdued, Arthur's eyes scanned the scene searching for Finnabair. She looked exactly like he remembered after the encounter with the thieves in the forest of Eleara… And just like then, the adrenaline-induced hype made him turn towards her, only one thing on his mind.

Sir Leon intercepted him half way. "Sire… Are you all right?"

Shaking his head to break the momentary enchantment, Arthur faced his Knight.

"Yes Leon…" And clapping the shoulder of his soldier, he chuckled, already composed. "I don't think I've ever been gladder to see you my friend… How did you find us?"

"It's a long story… Suffice it to say that as we were made aware of your whereabouts by Merlin, our scouts told us of the Steward's forces headed this way too…" He looked around, smiling in relief. "I'm glad we came…"

"You can say that Leon… We wouldn't have lasted much longer…"

The knight arched his eyebrows, suggestively. "At least it seemed that you had a good comrade in arms fighting along your side…"

The statement made Arthur came back to his _other_ reality. Yes, he had. Which reminded him…

Nodding briefly to Sir Leon, he made his way towards where Gwynn was talking with Sir Lescaut and some other knights from Camelot. His indignation resumed.

_A good comrade in arms …who is incapable to follow a simple order!_

As he neared the group, the Prince saw Lescaut being overly concerned with Gwynn, who was seemingly annoyed by so much attention and complaining.

"I told you I am all right, Lescaut… This is just a superficial cut… And I did it with a branch while coming down the hill… It wasn't even a sword!"

Reaching the gathering, Arthur cleared his throat. "I need a minute with the Princess."

His tone did not leave room for argument and his knights made themselves immediately scarce. Lescaut, however, just stood there thinking that no matter how much he tried, he couldn't bring himself to fully like this Prince.

For all he knew, every time his charge was with the Camelot Heir, she was put in danger in one way or another… That was simply unacceptable.

Of course he didn't stop and think that it might have been actually the other way around… As far as Arthur was concerned, every time_ he_ was with the Princess, they ended up in complicated situations, usually because she would never take a '_no' _for an answer…

"You too Lescaut." He was already too tired and angry to argue with the guard.

The young captain stiffened, but Gwynn—perceiving the unstable conditions—calmly put her hand on his arm to appease him.

"Go Lescaut. I will be fine."

Looking at the retrieving back of the soldier, she mused smiling. "What have you done to Lescaut? He really does not seem to warm up to you…"

That was probably the last thing the Prince needed to hear at the moment. "I've done nothing!" He hissed exasperated. "But I cannot help it if he thinks that every time you are with me we end up in some sort of trouble… What he obviously does not know is that it's usually your fault."

Amusement instantly gone, Gwynn opened her eyes wider in forthright outrage. "My fault?"

"Yes! You are reckless and irresponsible, with an innate talent to ignore orders. You are a danger to yourself and to those around you!"

"How dare you…!"

Her heated retort was interrupted by the Prince's even more incensed rant. "First of all, what is it with you and numbers? Don't you know how to count to three?"

"Of course I…"

"And what's a matter with you and orders? I told you to run away!"

"I stayed to help you!"

"By putting yourself in danger! That's reckless!"

"How can you think I would run away from a fight that was mine and mine only, and let you die here!"

"Your presence worried me more than anything! I told you to run because I wanted you to be safe!"

That was enough. This arrogant male was scolding her and not even acknowledging she had helped him!

"And I wanted _you _to be safe! I would rather you say _thank you_ than giving me this tongue-lashing because your pride cannot deal with the fact that a woman save your royal behind!"

"It is NOT my pride woman!" He roared. "I could not live with myself if something happens to you… Don't you understand that?"

By then they were speaking loudly enough for everyone to hear. Though no one would have dared to utter a word, amused looks at the interchange were going around the field while the knights were securing the prisoners.

"But your worries are unwarranted! We've been over that! Why are you so stubborn?"

"_I _am stubborn?" He scoffed angrily. "You really have some nerve! You have proven to be absolutely incapable of following a simple order and…"

"I do not have to follow your orders! You do not own me and…"

_Oh, yes. I do…_

Unable to control his impulses any longer, Arthur grabbed her by her waist and shut her up with burning lips.

Relief, excitement, anger, passion… The torrent of emotions that had threatened to drown them both, finally found its release in an all-consuming kiss.

The intensity of the interlude kept growing unbridled until a loud roar of approval rose from the knights, and reminded the royals they had an audience.

At long last—and albeit reluctantly—Arthur broke the lip-lock, but unable to let go just yet, he encased her in a powerful embrace without retreating an inch. He chuckled softly.

"I forgot we were not alone…"

Like in another similar situation, the handle of his sword was punctuating her back and Gwynn moved uncomfortably, jokingly complaining with a low, throaty voice.

"You also forgot to drop your sword… You should remember to do that if you are going to kiss me like this…"

Arthur's smile broadened while he moved back a bit, and his eyes gleamed with a naughty twinkle. "That's because I am not used to kiss a comrade in arms after a battle… I never drop my sword."

The sound of her crystalline laugh resounded in the ruins. It was fresh and calming; their previous argument entirely forgotten. Then, that smile of hers that was responsible for turning Arthur's insides out came back tenfold.

"You are quite charming when you are not bellowing my lord."

Steel-blue fire drowned in a green lake of light. The sheer brightness of her eyes made Arthur dizzy and all his thoughts of a romantic proposal went to hell… The words were burning in his throat and he could not stop them any longer.

"I love you." He breathed at last.

A soft gasp escaped her throat while her eyes widened in surprise. But it was only a split-second.

"I love you too Arthur."

When her hand came to his cheek, he closed his eyes and exhaled a long lungful of air. Her words had reached the bottom of his soul and had finally set it free.

After a long moment on indulging on the blissful feeling of each other's warmth, he opened his eyes and grabbed her hand to kiss her knuckles.

"Are you ready to go home my lady?"

"I am, my lord."

* * *

Gallau stormed into the throne room virtually running and Ruther stood up, immediately dismissing everyone else.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I barely escaped to warn you Sir." He breathed exhausted. "The Prince and the Camelot knights defeated us. It was a trap…" But since he hadn't disclosed the worst part yet, his hand went instinctively to his sword. "The Princess is alive, Sir. They are heading back to the Citadel…"

The face of the Steward lost all colors. His worst nightmare had just become true… Gwynn was alive and his conspiracy most likely discovered.

Bile rose to his throat and a surge of pure, unadulterated hatred coursed through his veins.  
Oh… How he loathed the little witch and that insufferable Camelot Heir who had singlehandedly destroyed his plans…

And then he had a revelation: _the witch… Camelot… Uther…_

His second-in-command disturbingly noticed the hint of a smile—albeit a wicked one—that appeared in the pale face of the regent, and wondered what was that the Steward found remotely amusing about the situation.

However, he did not dare nor have the time to ask. Turning on his heels, Ruther called to him while leaving the room in a hurry through a secret passage door.

"Grab some fresh horses and meet me immediately at the end of the passage that opens to the south. We are going to Camelot…"

* * *

A/N: And the plot thickens... there be night before the nearing sunrise :-) Almost there. Don't despair.


	37. Chapter 37: Matters of trust

SAME DISCLAIMER AS IN CHAPTER 1

And another long chapter ahead. A quite difficult one to write, actually.

I thought of splitting it, but because of the several cliffhangers in which it could have ended, I decided to upload it all at once. I figured it also makes up for the long hiatus.

You can read it at your leisure anyway. ;-)

It's a pivotal chapter as it settles relationships between characters (hence its title). Many issues hinted in previous installments find their resolution in this one.

I had the central idea of the most crucial moments ever since the beginning of the story, and I am very interested to learn your opinions about the way I solved some of the entanglements. I certainly hope you like it.

Thus, please indulge me and review. Thanks! :-)

On with the story...

* * *

_**Chapter 37: **__** Matters of Trust**_

Merlin was blissfully observing the gathering, unable to stop smiling. A mixture of happiness and hopefulness was brewing inside his chest and he didn't recall anything like it, possibly ever since he was a child.

The pride he had felt when Arthur returned with the fabled sword had almost made him explode. His Prince… better yet, _his friend_ was indeed destined to unify these lands and rule Albion; and he would be by his side.

The company had congregated around a large bonfire right outside the manor. The servants had prepared food, assembled tents for the knights, and made sure everyone was comfortably hosted. Even the few prisoners taken alive were fed and sheltered in a shack by orders of the Princess. She had insisted that they should be treated with fairness, arguing that they were simple soldiers—most of them very young—following orders, and the day had already seen enough death.

Chewing on his dinner, the warlock's thoughts drifted to his earlier conversation with Ennyny. As he had learned then, it had been Finnabair's mother who appeared in Ennyny's vision warning her of the imminent danger. But most startlingly, Queen Binne had also advised the seer about the broken Morrigan's line and warned that the only possible way—if there was any—to rebuild it was for him to help the Princess with the sacred rite.

That was a very delicate matter indeed. First, because in order to do so he would have to disclose his own powers to Gwynn, which would probably mean with Arthur as well. And the wizard certainly dreaded the idea.

How would Arthur react to the fact that his bride-to-be and his servant were magical creatures? The thought alone made Merlin anxious. One thing was for the Prince to have made peace with the fact that he had been born from magic, and another very different was for the young Pendragon to happily welcome the concept.

Second—and perhaps more difficult—because it was entirely the Princess' decision. She needed to accept and embrace her heritage, and it seemed that the real problem resided there. Gwynn was so afraid of her powers, that not even Ennyny had been able to convince her otherwise.

It had come as a surprise to Merlin the… _larger_ role he might have been called to play in the destiny of Albion. He had always known that he would have to aid Arthur in the quest. But as things were, it would appear that his mission also included helping the future queen.

Ruminating on those notions, he had to concluded that in hindsight, all the events that initially had appeared to be pure coincidence—namely: his findings in Eleara, the trip to Caerfyrddin, and the discovery of his own heritage—had obviously been a matter of fate.

Somewhere… Sometime… the whole thing had apparently been planned to the last detail. And so far everything seemed to have been working impeccably.

The young warlock shook his head and went back to his food, still smiling. He would worry about those things later. The general mood couldn't be better and the food and drinks were delicious. After everything that had happened, he felt he deserved this break.

On the other side of the campfire, Arthur was listening to the ongoing conversation between Gwynn and Sir Leon, when his eyes absentmindedly landed on Lescaut. Wledyr had been diligently tending to the wounded knights and Lescaut was next. A moment earlier, however—and amidst the soldier's argument that he was fine—Gwynn had virtually _ordered_ him to let Wledyr heal his leg for good. With a suspicious glare to the blond woman, the young captain had no other choice but to obey his mistress' command.

While the healer was tending to his injuries, the guarded expression of Lescaut caught the Prince's attention. The strung-up guard was even more serious than usual—if that was actually possible—and seemed completely estranged from the comfortable atmosphere. A thought crossed Arthur's mind, and gently touching the Princess's arm to gain her attention, he whispered.

"Is Wledyr the person Lescaut referred to as the crazy woman…"

Gwynn looked momentarily confused and then, understanding the question, let out one of her crystalline laughs.

"Oh, Yes…" She whispered back, giggling. "The last time we were here, more than ten years ago mind you, Wledyr fell passionately in love with Lescaut and smothered him every step, annoying and embarrassing him to no end. We were all very young, but Lescaut has always been reserved with the ladies and having Wledyr fussing around him all day long drove him crazy."

Amusing thoughts of the uptight knight trying to escape the loving passion of the plump hostess briefly passed through Arthur's mind.

"I would have loved to see that!"

The Princess looked pensively at her guard and shook her head admonishingly. "I wonder why he's still uncomfortable about it. Wledyr does not even remember it. We are all grown ups now, but he seems to still be brooding over that."

"Oh… I do not think Lescaut is brooding over _that__ lady_ in particular." Arthur answered frankly entertained, only to regret it a second later when curious green eyes met his.

"What do you mean?"

The Prince almost blushed wondering what had come onto him to say something like that. It was unbecoming for a royal to gossip in such fashion. Whatever feelings Lescaut harbored for Helene were the captain's business alone.

He moved uncomfortably. The truth was that he felt so at ease with his Princess that the comment had come without thinking. Nevertheless, it was not his place to disclose anything and he shrugged his shoulders silently praying for the subject to go away.

"Nothing… I'm just saying."

Fortunately, a server came with more wine preventing the Princess from questioning him further, and a joke from Sir Leon distracted her attention. Arthur sighed relieved; he might just have gotten away with it.

His gazed then landed on his servant, who was apart from the group looking very meditative and also detached from the general gaiety. It finally downed on the Prince that Merlin had been in a very peculiar behavior ever since they arrived in Caerfyrddin.

Arthur reckoned that he had been so involved with his own thoughts and worries he hadn't paid much attention to it. As a matter of fact, he had even taken advantage of his servant oddly reclusive mood. But now things were… _clearer_, and the Prince figured it was a good time as any to quiz Merlin… while having a little fun at it, of course. Smirking, he walked towards his servant's spot.

"What are you doing here?"

Slightly startled by the arrival of his master, the warlock shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "I'm just… thinking…"

"I've told you not to do that. You will hurt yourself..."

Frowning at the teasingly disposition of the Prince, Merlin wondered which version of his master was more insufferable: if a stressed-out Arthur or a good-humored Arthur. That was a tough call. He simply made a face and turned his eyes to the dark ocean.

"Ha… ha… Very funny."

To the Prince's disappointment, apparently Merlin was not in a mood for bantering. Very well then, he would endeavor to find out what was it that made his servant so solemn amidst the ongoing merriment.

"And… what are you thinking about?"

"You…"

The unexpected answer made the expression of the Prince change from amused to apprehensive in a split second, and he was about to say something when Merlin continued talking with the same contemplative cadence.

"… The Princess… The sword..."

Lowering his guard, Arthur went back to a relaxed demeanor and busied himself with the content of his goblet.

Merlin turned to him. "You will be a great king Arthur."

Looking up again, the Prince's frowned, though this time in frank amusement. "Have you been drinking too much ale?"

"I am serious." Merlin insisted, disregarding the royal pun. "You've found the sword that will unite these lands. You _are_ carrying Caldabolg."

Out of habit, the Prince's hand went instinctively to his belt even though he wasn't carrying the weapon. He tried to minimize the issue.

"Merlin, it's a legend and…"

But the warlock remained earnest. "You know I am right. You know that everything that has happened ever since we went to Eleara has been…"

"What?"

The interruption carried a clear warning as well as the royal eyes, and Merlin took the hint. Arthur was clearly expecting a _particular_ answer, so he said something else.

"Fate…"

Turning his gaze forward, the Prince straightened his shoulders. "I don't know if I believe in fate…"

As luck would have it, that was the opening Merlin needed for his next question; and while threading carefully, there was a shadow of a smile dancing on his boyish face. "Do you believe in… _magic_ then?"

Though Arthur had indeed been hoping for the word not to be voiced, he did not show it. He simply stiffened imperceptibly pondering the issue; the idea of bantering completely gone by then.

"I do not know either…"

It was an honest answer and the warlock saw his window of opportunity growing wider. He pushed on. "And how else do you explain the episode in the cave then?"

_Yes. That was magic._ Gwynn had magic and he had been born of magic. And Merlin…

Stopping the thoughts from wandering into dangerous territory, the Prince deemed it was better to left things unsaid and pursed his lips, knowing that whatever he could add would only encourage Merlin's further.

"The Princess seemed very impressed that you have picked the four cardinal virtues no less… I must say though, I didn't know your knowledge of Philosophy ran so deep…"

_Incredible!_ For once, his dense servant had seemingly understood his silence and had changed subjects. Arthur chuckled. Merlin's casual comment was a far safer topic.

"Truth is… I did not know at the time I was choosing them…"

The darkness of the night hid his soft blushing as the Prince looked down, kicking some pebbles on the ground. He knew his confession would likely earn him some mockery from Merlin, but his sense of honor prevented him from taking undeserved credit.

Far from teasing, however, the warlock turned to him once again with obvious admiration on his face. "Oh, but you did… You might have not remembered them from the books, but you knew them in your heart."

Arthur remained quiet, digesting those words.

"Don't you see? That's what will make you the greatest king these lands have ever seen…"

There was a short-lived pause and the wizard continued despite the Prince's blank expression. "I know you feel that the burden is too big… And I imagine you think you might not live up to what will be expected of you…"

The royal eyes were now narrowing. Was Merlin having one of his rare moments of wisdom?

"I've known you for many years… I've seen you grow from the spoiled brat you were at the beginning…"

_Perhaps not__… _Arthur's impassive expression began to morph into annoyed indignation, but Merlin rapidly dismissed it.

"And you still _are_ sometimes, so don't give me that look…" To then persist in his inspirational diatribe. "But look at you now… You…" He flailed his hands in search for the right words. "You've found who you really are and most importantly, who you _will be_."

The seemingly offhand statement hit another nerve in the royal… _Would Merlin know about his birth? If so, how?_

And for a second time in a row, the warlock correctly interpreted the lack of reply and shifted directions anew.

"I can also see how much the Princess has helped you in all this. And I am not talking about Goidelic… Ever since you met her in Eleara and got to know her, and even when you thought she was only a lady in waiting… You _knew_she was the one. Am I right?"

Once again his servant's uncanny ability to prattle and still make sense caused Arthur to smile in the dark. In no desire to engage in an open-heart conversation, however, he thought of remaining silent only to recognize a second later that Merlin had been alongside him throughout everything and therefore deserved the courtesy of an answer.

He exhaled forcefully turning his eyes to the night. "Perhaps…"

The noncommittal nature of the response apparently flew by his servant. Not that Arthur had been expecting any differently from his clueless friend.

"And now you are going to marry her, and Leoness and Camelot together will be the beginning of the unified lands… I can see it clearly…" Merlin finished, smiling with unabashed satisfaction.

Still not interested in discussing his private life or deepening the tenor of the conversation, Arthur chose to joke, hoping for his servant to take the hint. "Has the ale convinced you that you've been learning from Ennyny?"

_You've got no idea…_

"No." Merlin shrugged his shoulders. "I just heard what happened after the fight in Isca Silurum…" His voice turned jokingly suggestive. "Finally you two decided to let your feelings out in the open…"

"I don't know what you mean."

"You love her and she loves you. It's quite simple when you think about it..."

Subtleties obviously useless by now, and while wondering how his initial plan of having fun with Merlin had backfired and _he_ was the one on the interrogation chair, the Prince decided to be unmistakably clear.

"Shut up Merlin."

The wizard laughed heartily at his master's trademark way out of uncomfortable topics, and then a brief moment of silence enveloped both friends. At last, Merlin spoke seriously again.

"Just have faith in yourself. _We all do__._"

Arthur's gaze immediately shot up, but the warlock had already walked away.

* * *

The following morning the company left Caerfyrddin before dawn and was making good time. With good criterion, Lescaut had dispatched his men the night before so they could alert Sir Alric of the safe return of the Princess and Prince.

The general humor was great. The Camelot Knights were in excellent disposition having their commander returned to them, plus the few prisoners were not posing any threat whatsoever without a leader.

The only drawback was that Finnabair had not been able to convince Ennyny to come with them. She had hoped for her grandmother to come to the Citadel, but the seer had been inflexible arguing that the court life was not for her and that she felt at ease only in her manor.

As an added complication, Ennyny had insisted for Wledyr to accompany the Princess, but neither lady had been sure at first. However the seer had maintained that it would be good for Wledyr to experience life in court and, on that level Gwynn, had agreed with her.

Nevertheless, it was clear that both adoptive granddaughters felt uneasy leaving Ennyny alone, to little avail since the seer was parked in her ways. Therefore, after the old lady promised to visit the Citadel in the near future, the discussion was finally settled.

Arthur sided his horse with Lescaut's, who after briefly acknowledging the royal arrival, kept his gaze trained on the road.

"I have been meaning to praise your good instincts, Lescaut."

That caught the knight's attention but his expression remained rather impassible. "And why, may I ask, is that Sire?"

The Prince smirked. The young captain was still suspicious of him.

"Well, back in Eleara I think I fooled everyone but you…" A smug smile was trying to break the knight's stern face, and Arthur continued inwardly amused. "You didn't completely trusted me and I must say that's exactly the type of sharpness and zealously I demand for my intended's guard."

At the statement, Lescaut turned to face the royal dead-on and Arthur swallowed his grin. He knew the captain was under the impression that—given their rocky start—he would remove him from his position of guarding Gwynn as soon as they were married. And up until now, he had not bothered to set the record straight.

However, the Prince figured this was a good time as any to put the young captain's mind at ease and he answered the soldiers' mute question, trying hard to hide his fun.

"Yes, Sir Lescaut. I expect you to continue serving your princess… and my future _wife_." Though the marriage hadn't been officially announced yet, the word came naturally to him and the Prince found he could not longer repress his own smile at the sound.

The guard nodded and his excited bright eyes oddly contrasted with his otherwise solemn expression.

"Thank you, Sire. I most definitely appreciate your trust."

Arthur grinned jovially. "Do not mention it. You are most qualified for the job and I wouldn't trust Gwynn's safety to anyone else…"

But since his mood was so good this morning, he couldn't help further teasing the knight. Arching his eyebrow, he wondered out loud. "I know you were not particularly…fond of me at the beginning, Lescaut. Has that changed by now?"

The captain knew the royal was baiting him and turned his face towards the road to hide his growing grin.

"Permission to speak freely, my lord."

_This should be good…_ The Prince nodded clearly seeing the smirk the guard was unsuccessfully repressing.

"Permission granted."

The guard's smile was fully out. "It still hasn't, Sire."

Arthur laughed unreservedly at the honestly of the answer. Despite their previous disagreements, he truly respected this uptight soldier. And the friendly banter was a clear indication that it was reciprocated.

Still chuckling, he added. "No worries, Lescaut. I will grow on you." And left to go back to his Princess.

* * *

It was late night and Sir Alric was pacing the throne room waiting for the party to arrive. As soon as he'd received news of his son, his guards had turned the Citadel upside down but no sign of the Steward was found, nor his second-in-command Gallau.

Leaderless, the mercenary forces had not opposed any resistance and had been quickly subdued by the royal army.

Always the conscious tactician, however, Sir Alric had managed to keep everything under wraps to avoid panic in the people, and thus life in the towns had proceeded without a hitch.

However he was still edgy. His veteran instincts were telling him that Ruther was not one to give up so easily, and he had been trying to divine where the evil Steward had gone and for what purpose.

His internal debate was halted at the sight of the royals and the relief of seeing them both alive and well, temporarily overrode his worries.

"Princess! Prince Arthur! It is so good to see you both well!"

Gwynn ran to the arms of the senior officer and hugged him dearly.

"It is so good to be home, Sir Alric…"

Briefly taken aback by the breach in protocol, it took only a moment for the old man to react, and embracing the Princess warmly, he closed his eyes in relief speaking his heart.

"It is so good to have you home my child. I have been so worried…"

Arthur was observing the exchange with a pleased smile, exceedingly glad the Princess had such loyal and caring allies. Sir Alric moved then to salute him.

"Your Highness… I have no words to express my gratitude, Sire… I…"

But the Prince dismissed the formal address. "Please, just Arthur…"

With a satisfied grin, Sir Alric firmly shook the Prince's hand; each warrior equally thankful of the other's devotion towards the Princess.

Gwynn spoke next, suddenly aware of an absence. "Where is Helene?"

Before anyone could say anything, the lady in waiting made her appearance, almost running towards her mistress.

"Helene!"

Both women embraced each other dearly for a long while amidst the silence of the male audience. Only when they retreated a bit, Gwynn came to reality and noticed the bandages.

"You are hurt! How…" And immediately turned to Lescaut with reproachful eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?"

The poor captain was still reeling from the abrupt arrival of his dearest and seeing the situation, Arthur spoke first.

"_We_," the Prince stressed, "thought that it was better not to tell you. Fortunately, it had not been too serious and she was being properly tended. It would have worried you unnecessarily."

Helene intervened as well. "And they were right, my lady, it was the sensible thing to do given the circumstances."

Understanding, the Princess nodded and simply hugged her friend once again. "I am so glad you are all right."

"So am I, Gwynn. I have been so worried about you."

Arthur threw a surreptitious glance to Lescaut, whose face had changed several expressions ever since Helene had walked into the room. As if in clue, the young captain met his eyes and curtly acknowledged the assistance.

Pragmatic as usual, the lady in waiting reacted first. "Oh, my. You must be exhausted my lady. Come. Let us prepare you a bath and a warm meal."

Feeling quickly exhausted after so many emotions, an unusual meekness took over the Princess and she simple nodded. A moment later, both ladies walked arm in arm out of the room.

The Prince didn't miss Lescaut's eyes following the figure of Helene until it disappear round the corridor, and his eyebrows arched in amusement. He had been right on target and the captain was obviously smitten with the blond petite lady.

His entertainment was short-lived, however, when Sir Alric spoke again in a serious tone. "Gentlemen, I have some unsettling news. Ruther has disappeared."

* * *

The celebration for the Princess' return had been kept a very private event. Since the townspeople and most of the court—with the exception of Sir Alric's circle of trusted allies—had not been aware of her abduction nor of the Steward's disappearance, there was no need for an overly done affair. Nevertheless, both circumstances were a sufficient enough reason for the small gathering to have a much-deserved relaxing time over dinner.

Sitting at the head table, Arthur could not take his eyes from the Princess. She looked so beautiful he was having a hard time keeping his hands to himself. He hadn't seen her ever since their arrival, and the time apart coupled with her gorgeous appearance were concocting a quite volatile mix.

Tonight she was wearing forest green—the royal color of Leoness—which made her eyes shine even greener. And the return of her unsettling jasmine perfume was making his concentration on anything but her extremely difficult.

With the Steward gone, Finnabair was her usual self and Arthur could clearly see the true regal charm of this delightful Princess. It dawned on him that in all their time together, they had hardly shared formal occasions. Actually, the first ball in his honor had been the only one, but back then she had felt trapped by her uncle… and him, admittedly, and had been tensed and cold.

Now she was relaxed and smiling… _And delicious_, he thought very wickedly. Every movement, every word, every smile spoke of the superior quality of her regal nature and he couldn't wait to make her _his_ Princess and one day… _his Queen_.

As if reading his mind, Sir Alric stood up to call the attention of the gathering for a toast.

"Friends, esteemed visitors, your highnesses," he smiled complacently at the young couple. "I am very grateful that we are all here as a new era dawns in Leoness. The former Steward is gone and the kingdom is ready to regain its royal house. I want to especially thank Prince Arthur of Camelot for being an intrinsic part of the latest developments. His presence in our country not only had forced Ruther to unmask his true intentions, but he had also been instrumental in the safe return of our dear Princess." He spoke directly to Arthur. "You are a true friend of Leoness and its royal house, your highness, and will always be welcomed in these lands."

And then, raising his cup to the audience, he toasted. "To Princess Gwynn and Prince Arthur."

"To Princess Gwynn and Prince Arthur!" the audience cheered.

As soon as the commander sat down, the Prince turned to him. "Thank you Sir Alric, but I could not have done so without your son and your help. It is I who should thank you as well."

The commander laughed jovially, once again pleased at the honorable young man that would hopefully become his king very soon. "You are too kind, Sire, yet that _was_ our duty. However, without your help and loyalty, I am afraid we would not be here tonight."

Gwynn felt her chest grew wide with pride. Her dear friend and trusted advisor had impeccably summarized what was in her heart and she looked at the Prince with brilliant eyes.

"He is right Arthur. We are… _I__ am_," she corrected, "forever indebted to you for this."

The loving glances exchanged by the youngsters didn't go unnoticed for the captain, who found an excellent segue for his next question.

"I hope you will be staying here a while longer, Arthur. There is much to discuss…" He smiled eloquently as if convinced the marriage would in effect occur very soon.

Neither of the royals missed the double meaning of the knight's words. However, whereas Arthur laughed merrily at the implications, Gwynn only smiled bashfully.

"I will, Sir Alric. There is much I would like to speak with the Princess and it seems that at last we will have some peace in the palace." He grabbed her hand noticing that it had become suddenly cold, but his smile did not falter while he finished. "And you are correct, there is much to discuss."

He observed Gwynn intently while caressing her knuckles, but she avoided his eyes, blushing softly. All the senses of the Prince prickled. She was uneasy; her previous tranquil mood evidently gone. And even though her façade of pleasant smiles could fool everyone in the room, it did not fool him.

_What's going on?_

Arthur rummaged through his brain for possible answers. Perhaps she was simply tired… Or maybe annoyed because matters concerning her were being discussed _without_ addressing her directly, as she had heatedly stated more than once in the past. Whatever the case, it was not something to discuss in public, and thus he would have to find out later.

* * *

Gallau could hardly see the road in the darkness of the night, but Ruther did not seem willing to stop. They had ridden practically non-stop since they'd left the Citadel.

Having three mounts each, they had already changed all of them and the third horses were already showing signs of exhaustion. For such apparently frail man, the Steward had an endurance Gallau had not suspected.

Nonetheless, that was madness. Killing the horses would achieve nothing, except attracting wolves. Not to mention the mercenary still could not fathom what had come over Ruther to decide going to Camelot.

"We should rest the horses, Sir." He tried one more time. "The scent of their exhaustion may attract unwanted predators."

If he had hoped for Ruther to show some concern at his words, he was sorely mistaken. Slowing down the frantic gallop only a bit, the Steward sneered disgustingly and kept going.

"We are out of safe options, Gallau." He spoke derisively. "It is either the forest's wolves, or Camelot's. Our chances are quite few."

The mercenary did not like his odds. "We can always run away."

The Steward's scornful laugh mixed with the rhythmic sound of the hooves. "And go where Gallau? Both our heads have a prize by now and it's only a matter of time before Alric and his allies find us…" He turned briefly to his commander and even though Gallau could not see his face, he reckoned there was probably a malicious glint in Ruther's small eyes. "Unless, we return to Leoness with an army far more powerful than his and strike them unawares. Time is against us, however, and since we are taking the chance with Camelot, we might as well take it with these wolves too."

* * *

The reunion proceeded until late hours, but the Princess had retired earlier, arguing exhaustion. Given all the trying events she had faced in the last couple of days, no one suspected anything.

Except, of course, Arthur.

By then, he was positive something had disturbed Gwynn. Even at her door, when he had bid her good night, she had seemed unusually anxious. But with Helene present, he did not have the opportunity to inquire.

Pacing his room, he retraced the events one more time.

Everything had been going well until Sir Alric hinted their upcoming union. At that point, she had become ostensibly aloof and while there could be a number of reasons for it, something in his guts told him things were not as smooth as everyone assumed them to be.

It then occurred to him that he had never actually _proposed_in the real sense of the word. True, they had finally declared their feelings for each other—admittedly not in the most romantic set up—but he wondered whether she might have been expecting a 'real' marriage proposal from him rather than the formal and cold 'arrangement' between the kingdoms.

He internally kicked himself. _How could he have been so insensitive? _

For all his experience with women, he had to admit that romantic notions were not—and by a long shot—his forte. After all, he had been a sworn life-long bachelor... Until now, that was.

Nonetheless, his tactless ways had probably hurt her romantic womanly feelings. That was the most likely reason. Or so he was hoping…

He stopped pacing. Maybe he should pay her a visit right now. It was not _entirely _appropriate, but considering his intentions were highly honorable—proposal included—he figured he was permitted a small leeway on the protocol arena.

Truth was, either he'd go and speak to her right now, or he'd be having yet another sleepless nights because of her. He shook his head heading out, an impish smile playing on his lips. The sooner they were married, the better. At least with Gwynn in _his_ chambers, his nights would finally be peaceful… besides pleasurable, of course.

* * *

Gwynn turned in her bed one more time. Sleep was eluding her and her mind was whirling with all sorts of thoughts. Some were very pleasant, some deeply depressing…

The incipient romance between Helene and Lescaut—based on what her lady in waiting had confided, which wasn't as much as she would have liked—was a big part of the pleasant ones. Her tender heart rejoiced at the idea of her two best friends being together…

After many years of seeing her dear guard detached and solitaire, and her lady in waiting uninterested in every court's male, she had developed the notion that perhaps Helen and Lescaut could be a good match… But she had truly no idea whether it would work or not. Thus, the fact that Lescaut had made the first move had pleasantly surprised her.

Nevertheless, and going by what she had been able to construe, her matchmaking had probably little to do with it, and the recent life-threatening developments had likely had more weight in her guard's decision than all her previous machinations.

Whatever the reason, the only thing that mattered was that her friends were becoming closer to each other at last.

And then, of course, there was Arthur… She was both exultant and distressed at the same time by his decision of remaining in Leoness. And the fact that Sir Alric was not only certain, but also excited about their marriage did not help her anxiety at all… How could she tell the royal captain his hopes were groundless?

_If only things were simpler…_

She sighed looking at the canopy above her bed, and timidly thought of how would it be being Arthur's wife…

_Arthur… _

His memories flooded her mind and stirred up her body almost immediately. After that passionate kiss in Isca Silurum they had not had any chance to be alone, and she discovered she had missed his caresses more than she thought it was possible.

_What she would not give for another kiss…_

Touching her lips, she closed her eyes and smiled remembering the feel of his luscious ones… Then, the unsolicited memory of his fresh, masculine smell attacked her nostrils, and was promptly followed by a fiery recollection of his hands on her skin… Her throat contracted and she gasped, shocked at her sudden reaction.

_Gods… __Would she be able to sleep in this state of upheaval? _

Grunting in frustration, Gwynn rolled over and pulled a pillow over her head in an attempt to muffle her unsettling thoughts.

_Was this what being__ truly in love was about?_

Because rather than the warm feeling of starry-eyed dreams of the first days, she was now being consumed by a strange internal fire… A growing inferno, actually, which could only be appeased by his kisses, based on recently past experiences.

Another groan, louder this time, was halted by a knock on her door and she came out of her pillow, frowning. Who would visit at these hours? In any case, sleep was apparently out of question, and thus any company would be better than her own irreverent thoughts.

When she opened the door, the last person she was expecting appeared in the threshold.

"Arthur!"

To his own surprise, the Prince hesitated and swallowed thickly, his resolution faulting. His eyes took in the lovely image of her figure in a sleeping gown and for a moment he pondered whether this was a good idea. The light fabric blatantly clung to her body fanning his vivid imagination to very dangerous heights.

His gaze traveled from her bare feet slowly caressing her form until it settled on her confused green eyes. She seemed to be wondering what he was doing there, and for a second, he wondered about it too. Something had to be said, though, and he collected himself trying hard to remember how to speak.

"Er…" He had to clear his parched throat. "May I speak with you for a moment my lady?"

"Of course. Come in…"

Perhaps her mischievous smile should have been a hint, because as soon as the door closed behind him, she trapped his body with hers and kissed him.

Lost in the feeling of her lips, Arthur quickly recovered from the surprise of her adorable assault and kissed her back. And when she melted in his arms with a soft moan of pleasure, he felt his worries leave him and pressed her even closer.

_Everything was all right…_

Gwynn never knew where her boldness had come from, except that after tossing around in bed fantasizing of his lips, some wicked part of her decided to take the lead… Not that the other part was complaining either. She figured her longing might have conjured his presence… And if that were the case, then she would at least take what she had been craving for.

At last, the need for air forced him to retreat a bit and his mouth moved to her neck, softly biting her earlobe. Her sharp intake of air made him chuckle throatily… but when she nuzzled his neck, his laughter morphed into a low groan.

"I thought you wanted to talk…"

"I thought I did too." He kissed her jaw again. "But I like your idea better…"

"So do I…" she purred.

By then, all thoughts of talking had definitely left his brain and his needs were relentlessly commandeering his body. Kissing her again, he moved them to the chaise and sat her down, leaning over her body and never losing the lip-lock.

She was warm and soft… And by Gods she smelled good; her proverbial jasmine perfume mercilessly driving him wild.

His hands were roaming all over her tender and receptive body… And that silky nightgown left little to his fingers' imagination… With the last glimpse of lucidity he reassessed his initial verdict: this had probably _not_ been a good idea.

Meanwhile Gwynn was not sure whether she was dreaming or not… If she was, then she certainly did not want to wake up. His mouth and hands were enslaving and she rejoiced in the familiar feeling of her bones melting. As her body was becoming more incensed, she suddenly craved for his skin …

Somehow clumsily –due in part to her half-awaken state and in part to the power of his passion—she started to open his shirt until the fabric gave enough room for her small hand to snake onto his chest.

The movement was as bold as it was unexpected and Arthur hissed in pleasure. His hands tightened their grip in desperation while he fought to regain his footing.

_Heavens__ woman, your curiosity will be the death me…_

Unaware of his inner struggle, she kept fighting with the cloth… upset with those aggravating garments that would not yield, unless Arthur lifted part of his weight from her.

A frustrated whimper came out of her throat and in some corner of the Prince's drunken brain something warned him that he might be hurting her, or worst: _scaring_ her…

This _had_ to stop, and soon… If only he could gather enough strength to pull away from her.

With his eyes shut to regain control, he pressed his forehead to hers and his fogged mind cleared enough just to formulate a lame apology for his unsuitable behavior.

"I am sorry… I…"

Trying to steady his ragged breathing, the Prince straightened, still not wanting to meet her eyes. He knew that one look at her dilated pupils and her flushed face would be his undoing.

Gwynn felt like a bucket of cold water had been poured in top of her. He had stopped and apologized again. He always did… Silently regarding him, she wondered what she should do or say… At last, a wearing doubt was all that came to her mind.

"Don't you want me?"

Arthur's eyes shot open and he had to swallow a bitter grunt, mixture of astonishment and physical frustration. She truly had not idea…

"More that you can possibly imagine." His voice sounded unrecognizably huskier, even to his own ears, and he chuckled nervously. "But I don't want to compromise your virtue and …"

"Why not?"

The candid question left him momentarily speechless and he felt he had to regroup. It was clear that her lonely upbringing and her lack of experience with men would have left some gaps in her mundane education, but this... Then Ennyny's words came to his mind.

"_For all her achievements and intuitive wisdom, Finnabair is still a child in many ways."_

Be that as it may, the Prince reckoned that the statement felt quite short to describe the actual situation… Very well then, a blunt truth was probably the best approach so she would understand where these… gameswere _really_ headed.

"Because I would rather make you mine _after_ we are married… "

And just like that, her disposition changed and she looked away, between disappointed and hurt.

Feeling trapped in a bizarre universe, Arthur pondered on the paradox. Any maid being asked for sexual favors _without_ the compromise of marriage would likely feel insulted. It appeared, though, that this maddening Princess was—as usual—the exception to the rule. She seemed affronted because he _would not_ ask for them outside the wedlock.

_Or perhaps…_

Realization hit him: maybe she was disenchanted because of the lack of a proper proposal. After all, that had been his original intention for being there tonight.

Then again, how to go about it? He had never given the issue much thought…

Not only that, but even if he could come up with a decent way to broach the subject—based on what he had learned from married comrades, for instance—chances were that this Princess could be expecting the _exact opposite_ of what any other maid would.

_Maybe a direct approach was best?_

Inwardly praying for her intrinsic expediency to play in his favor, he grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. Her eyes were inscrutable and he swallowed through a dry mouth.

_Just do it__!_

"Finnabair of Leoness… Would you do me the honor to be… my wife?"

Once again he savored the word in his lips. The more he said it, the more perfect it felt.

_That wasn't so hard, was it?_

But when she didn't answer and averted her eyes already pooled with tears, his pulse began to speed up.

After another moment of deafening silence, his brain was circling around all possible motives. She _had said_ she loved him… Why the tears then? Worst of all, why the lack of an answer? Was his proposal so unsuited that had saddened her?

"Gwynn…"

"I'd wished you didn't ask…" The bitterness on her voice felt like a slap on his face and he stiffened. That was surely unexpected.

"I thought you wanted me…"

"You thought wrong then." She tried to get up and Arthur had the keen intuition she was hiding something and was angry with him; hence he pinned her on the chaise preventing her escape.

"Stay."

As his irritation mounted, he briefly thought of her ability to unhinge him. Once again, she had answered something utterly unpredicted and, in this case, downright infuriating.

"Explain."

She kept looking stubbornly away and Arthur could not decipher her flush or even imagine what she was thinking, which was probably a good thing, given the state of uproar of the Princess' feelings.

_What was it that he wanted her to explain anyway?_ _Hadn't she been clear enough about the whole marriage deal?_

Her own turmoil was preventing Gwynn to see the extent of the damage her attitude was causing; yet her anger was the only shield she had at hand to stifle the sound of her heart breaking into pieces.

_Why did he have to ask? Why couldn't he just take what she was offering without promises of a non-existent future?_

"I can't marry you Arthur. You know that."

Her tired tone was even more unnerving; her demeanor almost impertinent. Amidst his growing indignation and perplexity, he couldn't stop his next words.

"But you love me…"

Fiery green eyes locked on his and left him with no doubts. For a reason he could not even fathom, Gwynn was furious. Her next words, however, confused him even further.

"Yes I do."

That was simply maddening and Arthur let out a resentful scoff. Didn't she know how dangerous this game—or whatever it was she'd been playing—actually was?

_Perchance __I should make sure she does._

With the best cynical tone of his long repertoire, he spat. "And you _were_ willing to give yourself to me a moment ago…"

A cruel pleasure briefly appeased him when she blushed crimson-red and looked down, shamefully nodding at the harsh statement. The Prince pushed further.

"Yet you do not want to marry me…"

Silence.

Whatever fleeting satisfaction her distress had provided to his bruised male ego, it quickly disappeared and was replaced once again by frustration.

"That does not make sense, Gwynn. It is beneath you to play this game."

She looked at him in a flash; the frosty condescension of his voice even more insulting than the accusation.

"I resent that!"

But Arthur was too far-gone to back down now. He smiled with biting sarcasm.

"So do you deny it?"

"I said I _resent__ed_ it!" She shoved her fists on his chest and tried to push him away, but he was quicker and stronger and pinned her back to her place. Fully incensed by then, she hissed between teeth. "You do not know who I am!"

Her reaction was certainly startling and Arthur's decision faltered. What was she talking about? However his wounded pride triumphed over the momentary confusion, and he mocked her.

"Oh, but I do… You are the Lady of Leoness, descendant from the glorious Silurian line. What else is there?" He pretended to think for an instant, and his mockery grew even more incisive. "Ah, yes. You are also a walking kindling… Quite handy actually, particularly after a rain in the forest…"

Listening to his taunting tirade, Gwynn was briefly amazed at how easily this Prince could shift her mood from amorous to murderous in a matter of seconds. She felt like biting him but knew better than to cross the distance that separated their mouths. One more kiss from him and she would be putty on his hands.

Instead, she chinned up and looked at him contemptuously. "I am also a direct descendant of the Morrigan and of King Nudd..."

That did it. Arthur's expression immediately shifted from scornful to serious. "King Nudd?"

"The God-King of the Old Religion, Arthur." She marked her words. "The King of _fair folks_ no less…"

His lack of reaction and his blank, absolutely unreadable face got on her nerves. "Don't you see? I am the embodiment of everything your father hates the most!"

Still, no reply.

Long, painful minutes passed while the world stood still for Gwynn and she felt her anguish overtaking her determination. Those blue eyes kept digging into hers with a force she could not withstand… There was something brewing in the cerulean depths that she could not discern but was inexorably destroying her resolve. At last, she pleaded in defeat.

"Please, say something…"

"I was born of magic."

Her gasp sounded loudly in the silent chamber, and in any other circumstance Arthur would have deemed her dumbfounded expression definitely priceless. This state of affairs, however, was too delicate to entertain those thoughts.

Judging that perhaps a full disclosure was in order so they could resume the unfinished business of their union, he finally sighed and in few words told everything he had learned from Ennyny.

When he was done, Gwynn remained silent, visibly shaken. She tried to get up and this time he didn't stop her and did the same.

After a long while of standing by the hearth looking intently into the flames, she finally spoke. "That changes nothing…"

_Of course… _The Prince looked at the ceiling trying to reign on the urge to shake her until she came to her senses. He moved forward with menacing strides.

"What do you mean…"

Turning briskly, she interrupted his question. "_You_ understand that magic is a gift, not a curse. _You_ have learned that there is nothing evil about it other than the person using it. _You_ will make sure your father's doctrine does not continue when you're King… _You_ will right all that is wrong now."

Her eyes were filled with tears and it pained him to see her fighting them; his fury altogether gone after such affirmation. Then, her next words hit him even harder.

"But if I marry you, your father will extend his terror to _my_ lands. He will force Leoness to outlaw magic as well. He will haunt and hurt _my _people. And I cannot let that happen."

"I _will not_ let that happen, Gwynn!" He exclaimed affronted. "You should have more faith in me!"

"I know you will, Arthur. That is why I cannot marry you while your father is King. You have sworn loyalty to him and you owe him your allegiance. I _will not_ put you in the position to go back on those vows."

Arthur rubbed his face in exasperation. The impotence to make her understand was becoming almost painful.

Everything Gwynn had said was so true and logical... It was _irrefutable_. And he internally cursed her perceptiveness and royal sense of duty. He even cursed that he prized her even more for it.

And yet, he was not willing to accept such black-and-white manner to see things. Truth was, he just couldn't…

"Do you realize that you're putting me in the position to… look forward to my own father's demise?" He growled.

"Of course not! How can you say that!" She became equally affronted. "But by marrying you while your father is King, I _will _put you in a position to either overthrown him or challenge him to save my people… or even my life! I can't let you do that Arthur. I simply won't!"

The Prince opened his mouth to reply, but shut it immediately changing his mind. The situation was obviously beyond words.

_His words at least._

A couple of seconds later he spoke again, this time more composed. "You do not think me capable of dealing with my father without a confrontation then."

She tried to speak but he held his hand up, preventing it.

"You do not think me capable of protecting you and your people from my father using anything other than brute force."

"Arthur…"

He was already at the door. "You should have more faith in me, Princess."

It could have been a sad reply, but he managed to make it sound sarcastic. She was outraged… After everything they had gone through together, this cocky Prince still had the nerve to doubt her trust on him…

"How…"

But he left without further ado.

* * *

Merlin walked into Arthur's chambers right behind the maidservant carrying the breakfast for his master. By orders of the Princess, he had been relieved of most of his duties and he couldn't be more contented.

All this special treatment he'd been receiving ever since Eleara—and outside Camelot of course—had been certainly a Gods-sent gift and the wizard had been enjoying every minute of it. Amused, he wondered if this was a taster of what was to come in the future when Arthur finally ruled Albion with him by his side.

Speaking of Arthur, the Prince was already dressed… Or rather, he was _still _dressed like the night before. That was possibly not a good sign.

After the maidservant left, the warlock looked at his charge carefully studying the mood. It was very hard to read, but when Arthur disregarded the food and turned towards the window instead, he knew that was _definitely_ not a good sign.

For a moment, Merlin had the bothersome déjà vu of another morning—not long ago and in these same quarters—when the Prince had asked him about magic… What could it be this time? Whatever the case, it was going to be better to break the silence.

"Good morning Sire; how are you this morning?"

He knew the empty greeting and chirpy attitude would likely earn him some mordant retort, but that would actually mean everything was all right. Far from it, however, Arthur turned to him serious and sat on his desk.

The royal gaze had the same strange light Merlin had seen the morning of the inquisition about magic and the warlock braced himself. Just like then, he had the annoying hunch that Arthur was seeing through him.

"I need to ask a favor of you."

_A favor…_ All right, that did not sound so bad. Maybe his worries were unwarranted. He nodded expectantly.

"I need you to speak with Gwynn and… help her with something."

_That_, on the other hand, was very confusing… Not to mention that Arthur's voice had a decisively apprehensive tone Merlin had seldom—if ever—heard.

"Of course, Arthur." He made a short move to leave, but since he had no idea to _what_ he was agreeing, he turned back. "So, with what exactly I would be helping her?"

"She will tell you." The Prince answered evasively. "Simply ask her to show you how she lights up the candles."

That was a cryptic answer if Merlin had ever heard one. However, sensing his charge was not in an eloquent disposition this morning, the warlock moved to leave for a second time, but had to come back again. He truly had no idea what was expected of him.

"Are you sure?"

"That would be a good preamble." Arthur briefly nodded. "After that, it will be up to you."

Despite of what apparently had been a royal attempt at an explanation, 'puzzled' could not even begin to describe Merlin's state of mind. If anything, he was even more confused and worst of all, somehow suspecting he would splendidly screw up this assignment and end up in the stocks.

"Hum... Arthur… Could you please be more specific about what you want me to speak with her?"

The Prince shot him a royal glare the likes of which Merlin had truly never seen. Suddenly, the warlock felt he was not in presence of Arthur anymore, but rather… _King _Arthur, as bizarre as the notion would seem.

"No. I cannot."

An unyielding resolution was flashing in the eyes of his master, which were clearly telling Merlin to obey without question. There was neither haughtiness nor superciliousness in the royal expression, only an unmistakable _regality_. And the warlock understood that even though Arthur had initially asked for a favor, _this_ was a royal decree.

At the hesitation of his servant, the Prince signaled the door with his head with the same commanding stance. "Go."

The bewilderment of discovering a side of his master he'd never seen before momentarily surpassed the confusion of the orders. Quickly regrouping, however, Merlin practically ran off the room towards the Princess' quarters.

* * *

Helene answered the door and received him with a warm smile. "Merlin! Good morning. What brings you here?"

"Good morning Helene." He smiled in return. "I need to speak with the Princess. Is she available?"

"Sure. Come on in. I will fetch her immediately."

A moment later, the Princess appeared in her antechambers. "Merlin… What a nice surprise"

"Good morning Princess."

"Gwynn…" She corrected.

Blushing slightly, Merlin bowed to kiss her extended hand and corrected. "Sorry… Good morning Gwynn."

The warlock really liked this Princess. From the first moment they met, he felt as if there was a hidden connection between them, which was later confirmed in his conversations with Ennyny. He wondered if it was because of it, but he felt as if now it was even more noticeable.

Maybe his task of helping rebuild the Morrigan's line would not be as difficult as he had first thought… Once he figured how to broach the subject, of course.

"Do you need to speak with me?" She asked intrigued.

Back on track, the poor wizard did not know where or how to start. "Well, yes. Arthur asked me … I am not sure…"

Softly giggling at his babbling Gwynn came to his recue. "Come. Sit down with me and explain everything from the beginning."

Merlin frowned, still smiling. "That's just it. There is no beginning. Well, except…" His master's cryptic words came to his memory _"Ask her how she lit up the candles…" _

"Except?" Her arched eyebrows were encouraging him to continue.

"Well… It seems that he would like for me to see how do you … light up the candles?"

The last part was almost inaudible and absolutely unconvinced, as if he did not even believe he was asking that. But when the colors drained from the Princess' face and she stood up with a start, he knew he had probably hit bull's eye.

"Did he…" She choked, visibly anxious. "Did he tell you that?"

The warlock was dumbfounded. What was the big fuzz about lighting candles anyway? He could do it with just… And it downed on him like a thunderbolt.

_No. That couldn't be__…_

However, recalling the rest of his bizarre conversation with the Prince, it became abruptly obvious that it was, in fact, '_it'_.

His confusion and sudden anxiety was overwhelming him, but before trying to put his chaotic thoughts in order, he turned his attention back to the distressed lady. He had been asked to _help_ her, and so far he had only managed to seriously upset her.

"Prin… Gwynn…" Perhaps it was a very good thing to be able to call her by her given name under these circumstances. "He asked me to put your mind at ease. To… _help_ you." He stressed.

The Princess stopped pacing and looked at him confused. "Why would you be able to do so? I mean…" She sat back in front of him, "why would Arthur think that you could?"

By then Merlin had a fearful suspicion of the answer, but that was not the time to ponder on it. He breathed in, trying to organize his thinking.

"I may know why." Then he insisted "Would you show me how you did it?"

Wringing her fingers in anxiety, she still looked hesitant and so the young warlock delicately put his warm hand on top of her cold ones. "I promise your secret will be safe with me."

His bottomless blue eyes were pure and honest, and Gwynn knew it was true. She nodded and sighed, and with a flick of her wrist all the candles in the room were lit at once.

Something cold crept over Merlin's spine; the truth coming out like an avalanche. The Princess _had _magic… active powers indeed.

_Correction. _The Princess had magic and Arthur was _obviously _aware of it. His pulse kept rising further.

_Correction again. _The Princess had magic; Arthur was aware of it, _and_ had asked him to help with the issue, which could only mean one thing…

At that point, the warlock's heart was about to jump off his chest. He _had read_ Arthur correctly: his secret was out.

Merlin could not even begin to fathom _when_ had Arthur figured out he was a wizard… Or _why_ had the Prince chosen not to ever mention a word.

Amidst his bewilderment, a blunt realization hit him full force and almost made him laugh.

_Talking about fate__!_

After days of wrestling with the uncertainty of how to introduce the subject to the Princess so he could aid her to embrace her heritage, and at the same time worrying about the potential implications with the Prince, against all odds it had been _Arthur himself_ who had asked for his help…

Meanwhile, the Princess still looked alarmed and expectant. And even though by then Merlin's head was buzzing with questions and speculations, there was still a task to fulfill. He tried a reassuring smile.

"I know why Arthur wanted me to talk to you then." With a small wink and a movement of his hand a soft breeze put off the candles.

Gwynn opened her green eyes wider than plates. "Merlin!" She whispered in shock. "You too…!"

"Yes, milady. I too…"

"How… When…" She was speechless. "Does Arthur…"

It occurred to Merlin that both of them were taken aback by _exactly_ the same reasons: one, discovering each other's powers… And two, the fact that the Prince had obviously been aware of _everything_ and yet had kept the secret, who knew for how long...

Most startlingly—and in an equally masterful as unanticipated move—Arthur had determined that the best tactic was to let them work out their magic together…

Pushing those notions back, the warlock decided he should ponder on the repercussions later. He had a task at hand and for once, he was confident he'd fully succeed at it. It was time to speak seriously.

"Now that I know what Arthur wanted me to converse with you, I think it would be better if you could tell me everything…"

* * *

It had been several hours since Merlin had left the royal chamber, and the Prince had just finished a comforting bath that although had not helped to refresh his exhausted mind, at least had relaxed his muscles enough after yet another sleepless night.

Ennyny's prophetic insight had been echoing in his brain ever since his discussion with Gwynn had reached an unsolvable impasse and he had decided to leave her quarters.

_"You will have to be patient, Arthur… She too has to deal with things for which she had not been prepared. She will need you when the time comes, and you will have to be there for her."_

He had reflected for longest hours about what he was about to do and the extreme risk his plan involved. It had been possibly the hardest decision he had faced in his entire life because it did not only implicate him, but also people he truly cared about.

At the end, he had not found another solution. And although in his heart he knew that was the only way, he had prayed for his decision to be the right one. Otherwise, the consequences could be dire for everyone…

The door of the room opened when he had finished donning his undershirt, and without turning, the Prince figured it was his servant. After all, no one but Merlin had the annoying habit of entering without knocking.

"Merlin…"

"Yes!"

Gwynn's voice and her emphatic tone made him turn swiftly on his heels. There was something on her face that made him smile, albeit hesitantly.

_Would __the plan have worked?_ The Prince feared to raise his hopes too much.

"No, you are not." He joked trying to measure her reactions.

But she didn't give him time to study her as she ran towards him and jumped in his arms, almost toppling him over.

"Yes I_ will_ marry you!" She said between kisses.

Although Arthur had thought he was used to the random exuberance of the Princess by now, her sheer elation caught him by surprise again…

_A good surprise for once_…

He laughed heartily under the cascade of kisses and effortlessly lifted her from the ground. Amidst his delight and relief, there was something else he needed to know. However, the sweet adoring 'shower' was making concentration truly difficult, and he raised her higher so his face was out of the reach of her lips.

The new position prevented Gwynn for kissing him further, and when she pouted in disappointment Arthur was about to concede… Did she know what her pout did to him? In any case, there was an urgent question pending.

"When?"

After a mere second of seeming confusion, her full bright smile lifted a tremendous weight from his heart and the Prince felt as if he was levitating too…

"Whenever you want…"

Lowering her, but still holding her feet above ground, he moved to kiss her and over her lips he teased. "At last… Are you always going to be this stubborn?"

"Would you have me any other way?"

The impish grin and her seductive tone made his knees instantly buckle. He hated with she smiled like that. That wicked light in her eyes was directly responsible for his stern self-control to slip. Then again, if she would only look at him so forever, he would be the happiest man on earth…

His "_no_" died in her mouth.

* * *

It was the afterglow of the previous passionate interlude—which Arthur had hardly been able to keep somehow proper—and the Prince was placidly resting his head on the back of the chair with Finnabair on his lap and reclined on his chest. She seemed very interested in comparing the size of their hands.

Amidst the comfortable silence and the idyllic ambiance Arthur had lost track of time… and possibly of space.

In some part of his brain there was the notion that he had just chosen the future queen of Camelot. However, everything that matter to him right then was that he was there with his future _wife_.

Nothing else seemed important at the moment. Not even his beloved kingdom.

Enveloped in a cloud of tenderness and love, none of the royals heard the door opening until a loud gasp from Merlin made them turn towards the entrance.

The Princess blushed all tones of red and Arthur—though trying to pretend annoyance—couldn't hide his blissful demeanor while standing up.

"Merlin… Do you think that in the future, and I mean the _near_ future, you could learn how to knock at last? Considering that, oh… I don't know… _My wife_ might be with me?"

The warlock swallowed and didn't know what to respond. The situation had changed so much in the last hours that he wasn't sure whether he'd been dreaming or not, and hoping for the former. At the center of his turmoil, of course, was the fact that Arthur knew of his magic… and had known for the longest time.

Then the word '_wife_' sunk in.

"Wife?" He choked. "You mean…?"

The Prince laughed and kissed Gwynn's forehead. "Yes, the Princess had accepted to marry me."

Regaining his wits—barely—the warlock was swept by an all-consuming relief and could neither stop his words nor his arms from flailing in an overly done gesture.

"Finally…!"

Though his spontaneous joy was truly contagious, Arthur's arched eyebrow made him realize what he'd just said and swallowing a laugh, Merlin immediately elaborated. "I mean… Congratulations, your highnesses!"

Still blushing softly, Gwynn spoke next. "Thank you Merlin."

There was a much deeper meaning in her expression of gratitude, which needed no explanation. The warlock smiled, nodding slightly, and then moved his gaze to Arthur. Both friends looked at each other intensely. No other words were necessary either.

No more secrets amongst them. No more half-truths.

The contentment in the room was almost a living entity as everyone knew that the unbending faith each had on the others had made this moment possible; and that they could face about _everything_ as long as they hold true to each other.

"I shall go." The Princess reacted first. "I will see you later for our outing?"

"Of course." Arthur's reply was prompt and relaxed. "We'll finally take Ceara for a ride."

While passing next to Merlin on her way to the door, Gwynn tiptoed and kissed his cheek.

"Thanks again." She whispered and then scurried from the room.

Chuckling at his servant's smitten expression, the Prince turned to finish dressing to Merlin's further confusion. For such momentous… discovery, it was somehow unsettling how little Arthur's behavior seemed to have changed. His curiosity got the best of him.

"Arthur, how is that you knew…?"

"I am the future King of Camelot, Merlin." He smiled smugly. "You really ought to give me more credit." And over his shoulder he added with joking sarcasm. "I am not as thick as you think I am."

Merlin blushed. "Of course not, I mean… I don't think…" He took a deep breath. "What I mean to say is…"

But turning around the Prince cut him off with a clearly commanding gesture of his hand.

"No." The royal stance was fully back in office. "When I am King we will hopefully be able to speak of this. All of this." He stressed. "But not until then."

The categorical answer and the regal deportment were unmistakable. It was obvious that Arthur's intention was to pretend _nothing _had changed by acting as if _nothing_ had happened.

Oddly enough, it made lots of sense, the warlock thought. The more things were kept as usual, the safer it would be for everyone.

Flabbergasted, he recognized how hard must have been for Arthur to learn Gwynn's story, and how much his master loved this Princess to risk it all for her.

Yet far more outstanding was the loyalty the Prince had granted _him _all this time. Merlin could not figure out when or how Arthur had discovered his secret. But now, aware that the heir of Camelot had known about his magic all along and never said a word, rendered him speechless.

Arthur had been breaking the laws of Camelot because he knew of his magic… And even more thrilling was the awareness that the Crown Prince had been _deceiving _his own father and King to save _his_ skin... A lowly servant's skin no less...

Ennyny's prophecy came crashing down on the wizard. _"What I think you do not know, however, is exactly how much Arthur trusts you, Merlin. But you will…"_

The insight hit Merlin dead-on. For all the bantering and the jabbing, for all the tantrums and the apparent lack of appreciation, the Heir of Camelot's throne had been protecting him all along, never saying or hinting anything. The thought alone was dizzying.

Although the young warlock had always admired his charge's noble traits, Arthur was obviously a much bigger man he had been giving him credit for.

_A man__ truly fit to be the greatest King these lands had ever seen._

Out of the blue and amidst his amazement, Merlin had this… strange perception that he might be writing _history_ alongside his friend. And with his help and that of the future Queen, magic _would return_ to Camelot one day. A sense of fulfillment flooded the young magician's soul.

"Arthur…"

"Now what Merlin!" Came the usual annoyed answer.

The warlock smiled. They were _really _back to normal.

"Thank you."

The Prince fully acknowledged the true meaning of those two words and responded in turn, subtly bowing his head to his friend.

"Thank you too."

* * *

King Uther was holding court as usual when a Knight advised him of the arrival of Leoness' ruler. Visibly upset, the monarch turned to Gaius with a questioning and worrisome look. He had been expecting his son, hopefully with his future bride in tow by then. Not the Steward, and _certainly_ _not_ the Steward alone.

Sir Ruther and Gallau entered the throne room and bowed respectfully.

"King Uther, it is an honor to make your acquaintance, your highness." Ruther spoke with studied distress. "Even under these unfortunate circumstances."

Too anxious for formalities, the King ignored the salutation and asked forcefully instead. "Where is my son and of what circumstances you speak?"

The Steward stood up and answered with faked uneasiness. "Your son is still in Leoness, Sire. And well… in a matter of speaking."

By then, Uther was more than impatient and his short temper flared unrestrained. "Speak at once, Sir Ruther! Why are you here then?"

Inwardly smiling, the devious Steward congratulated himself. He had the King just where he wanted. Uther's legendary paranoia would undoubtedly do the rest.

"I am afraid I am the bearer of unsettling news, your highness. Your son…" He paused for further effect. "Your son has been enchanted my lord."

* * *

A/N: I truly hope you're enjoying the ride as the story makes its final turn. ;-)


	38. Chapter 38: The perfect storm

SAME DISCLAIMER AS IN CHAPTER 1

Hey there! I'm back.

I am very sorry this update took so long, but I have been extremely busy with work and couldn't find enough time to write.

In any case, here you have: TWO chapters merged into one (very long) to make up for the absence ;-)

A lot is happening now in the story and I hope the chapter—though lengthy—results dynamic to read.  
You'll be the judge, as usual, and I hope you like it.

Thank you so very much for the wonderful reviews!  
They really keep me going. It's very rewarding to hear (read) your opinions and I really appreciate such loyal readers :-) :-)

All right. Enough with the chit-chat and on with the story…

* * *

_**Chapter 38: The perfect storm**_

Lescaut was in the terrace above the courtyard trying to decide what to do. Ever since their return to the castle, his duties as a royal guard had been suddenly taken over by the Heir of Camelot who hadn't left the Princess's side at all.

On one hand, he knew the Princess was _very_ well protected; on the other, he couldn't help but to feel a bit… neglected. Gwynn was as close to a sister as he ever had, and although his position and her status had always prevented that kind of familiarity, the truth was that something akin brotherly jealousy coursed through his veins.

A small smile graced his handsome features. _Who would have thought I would have been a jealous brother have I had a sister?_

At the moment, both royals were probably in one of their private outings and though he was quite tranquil his mistress was safe with Arthur watching over her, the fact that Ruther was still out there had him uneasy. He would only breathe better once the traitor was dead.

Reflecting on that, he wondered if—when the opportunity came—he would have to fight the Camelot heir for the pleasure of ending the Steward's life. His smile widened: that was certainly something to consider. After all, the Prince was as eager as he was to avenge the Princess.

The line of thought brought him to the issue of the mercenaries and the ongoing debate between the court members, who were still trying to decide what to do with them.

A massive execution was out of the question. Leoness was in essence a pacific country. It had always been, and such display of horror—however justified—could potentially have a serious impact on the people. At least that had been the Princess' position and so far no one had dared to challenge it, no matter how naïf they might have thought it was.

But the captain knew there was some rationale in the Princess' pronouncement. The coup d'état orchestrated by the former Steward had been based on the coldly executed assassination of only a few—the royal family—rather than a bloody conflict of many. And aside from the random barbarian's attacks on the smaller and farthest villages, most of the citizens of the country had never seen a war.

As opposed to Camelot, which—as far as he'd learned from the knights—was a kingdom surrounded by foes, Leoness had obviously been blessed on that aspect. Lescaut had heard stories about magical winds protecting the harbor. He wasn't sure whether they were true or just folk tales, but the fact was that there had never been—at least in his lifetime—an attempt of attack from the sea.

Moreover, the country was geographically well protected from the landside too. As luck would have it, the closest large kingdom that could have posed a threat was Camelot no less, and it had never happened in the past.

The captain smiled again. With the union of both royal houses, it would certainly not happen in the future either…

His contemplation drifted back to the mercenary army. That was definitely a complex matter and he was glad the decision rested quite far from his shoulders. As difficult as protecting Gwynn was—particularly because of _her_—he would take the job any day rather than politics.

"Hello Lescaut."

The sound of the voice froze him in place and erased all thoughts from his mind.

_Helene._

Confessedly, he had not been actively looking for her these last days, which hadn't been difficult since she had been either with the Princess in the royal chambers—place from where he was normally banned when both ladies were together—or … or _missing,_ come to think of it. Only then it dawned on him that she had most likely been avoiding him too.

Turning swiftly, the young captain decided to face whatever was in store for him.

"Hello Helene…"

She looked particularly beautiful today, and her serene eyes left him wondering. Would she be upset or amused about his spineless behavior? What about the kiss? He wished he could better understand her eyes but—as he had discovered the last time they were together—he had spent most of his life _misinterpreting_ her demeanor. Why should today be any different after all?

"I would like to speak with you, my lord, and I was wondering when would be a good time."

Lescaut found himself scrambling for words. _A good time…_

That would certainly depend on_ what_ she wanted to say… It was _never_ a good time for a rejection, of course. He forced his face to remain impassible and was able to hide his galloping heart simply because of all the years facing her and disclosing nothing.

"It is always a good time to speak with you, my lady. Actually, I've been meaning to find you, but it seems you've been busy the last days…"

_Liar._ He hated that he was acting like a schoolboy, but he did not want her to think he'd been avoiding her, no matter how close to the truth it was.

When she blushed softly at his veiled allegation, Lescaut knew he'd been right. Helene _had_ been hiding from him. The question worth a kingdom was _why_.

Offering his arm, he guided her to a bench under a large willow, which leaves were already discoloring with the early autumn. It was time to face the consequences of his actions… whatever those might be.

* * *

King Uther's reaction at the word "enchanted" had been ferocious to say the least. And when the Steward mentioned his niece was a descendant of the Morrigan, it had gotten even worse. At that point, Gallau had wondered whether his master was extremely astute or just plain crazy.

Two guards were now firmly restraining him and two others were holding Ruther. Except that the latter had also an angry King on his face. The eyes of the Camelot monarch were nothing short of deranged.

"If you KNEW that the Princess was a sorceress" The King spat "Why did you DARE to send the treaty to me?"

But the Steward kept his calm, much to Gallau's surprise. "I did not want to, your highness. I was _forced_ to do so."

King Uther was slightly taken aback by the answer and retreated a bit. After a momentary pause, he ordered. "Explain."

Straightening, Ruther glanced derisively at the soldiers holding him. Another gutsy movement if someone had asked Gallau.

The King, however, seemed to understand the meaning and signaled his guards to let go of the Steward. His second-in-command, though, was not granted the same prerogative.

"I have kept the kingdom away from my niece's hands all these years because of her lineage and her powers." Ruther lied impassibly. "I knew very well your policies when it comes to magic Sire, and in an effort to preserve the… _amity_ amongst neighboring lands, I did my best to prevent her for claiming the throne. You surely must know that."

Uther nodded but his stance was still threatening. The Steward continued.

"However, I am afraid there are many in Leoness who would not see it that way. As of late, the pressure to return to a royal house has been mounting in the court. Alas, a couple of months ago, I was given an ultimatum by a group of followers of the Princess: either I married her or there would be a coup d'état."

Ruther was carefully marking his words to ensure they would sink in the monarch's enraged brain. "In order to keep the peace of the kingdom, I had no other option but to acquiesce, Sire. That is when I thought of Camelot in hopes that… been aware of the Princess ancestry, you would have rejected the treaty, my lord."

Gaius had been silently following the interchange trying with all his might to disguise the turmoil brewing in his insides. There were many inconsistencies in the Steward's explanation. Nevertheless, he knew that once the word '_magic_' had entered the conversation, any rational argument with the King was out of question. Uther would not hear or attend reasons.

The Steward pressed on.

"I cannot express enough how much I regret it now, your highness. It seemed a good alternative at the moment and helped me to buy time with the nobles… I honestly did not expect anything to come out of it…" He shook his head in fake regret. "I was confident you would have known about Princess Gwynn, Sire. After all, Camelot is a … _beacon_ in the war against magic and, as such, I… presumed you _were_ aware of such tidings."

That was a punch to Uther's guts in top of everything, and Gaius shrieked internally. Having his son allegedly 'enchanted' was bad enough for the King, but being suspected of _not doing_ everything necessary against magic—however veiled the accusation—was a blow from which the monarch would not likely recover until blood had been spilled.

Sure enough, Uther was reeling from those words. It seemed that the Pendragons had gotten far more than they had bargained for with the fateful treaty.

The King was not going to admit it, but the nagging feeling that his ambition to see his kingdom expanded had put his son in harm's way—and of _magic_ out of all dangers!—kept growing relentlessly in the back of his mind.

Ruefully, he remembered that he had even mistaken Arthur's suspicions regarding the arrangement for a ploy orchestrated by his son to get away from an unwanted marriage…

Amidst his anger an anxiety, Uther reckoned he should have probably asked more questions… He then turned to Gaius.

"Were you aware of Princess Gwynn's dynasty?"

Looking straight to his master, the old physician lied without blinking. "No, Sire, I was not."

The eyes of the King told him he did not entirely believe that, and conscious of the precarious situation and the need to buy time, the scholar decided to elaborate.

"I am familiar with the legend of the Morrigan and its links to Nudd, the king of fair folks of the Old Religion, Sire. I was not, however, aware that there were any surviving descendants, much less in Leoness."

This time the monarch was seemingly satisfied with the answer and turned towards Ruther once again.

"What happened then?"

The devious Steward was inwardly enjoying his triumph. One more push and he would had what he wanted.

"I was beyond surprised my lord, when instead of envoys with a rejected treaty, your son arrived in the Citadel in the flesh." He paused for effect. "Surprised… and very much worried, Sire."

"I… understand." The King did not sound threatening anymore, but rather extremely troubled. "What else?"

Gaius was worrying by the minute at the change in the Uther's demeanor. It was now matter of time until the King found an actual _ally_ in the shady Steward, who continued his regretful tale.

"My niece is extremely beautiful and crafty, Sire. I tried to prevent the Prince from falling in her trap…" His voice broke in an excellent interpretation of sorrow. "But I did not have the chance… By the time I spoke with Prince Arthur he was already enchanted and did not believe me. They plan to wed immediately in Leoness…"

* * *

Merlin finally found them in the training hall. As of late, the royals had taken to disappear every chance they got trying to spend as much time together—and alone—as possible.

Not that he could blame them. The Camelot party would have to return soon, and though the treaty was being amended to correct the original conditions of the Steward, he knew as well as Arthur that it was uncertain when it would be safe for the Princess to go to Camelot.

Maybe because of that Merlin had not had the heart to interrupt the idyllic respite of the young lovers until now. Nevertheless, he also knew time was against him and he had yet to finish the last task entrusted by Ennyny. Namely, helping the Princess to mend the so-far broken Morrigan's line.

_Which apparently could prove more complicated than expected…_

The morning when all the secrets had been laid out—and after realizing what Arthur had tacitly implied by getting them together—Gwynn had cut their conversation short and ran to the Prince's arms, finally agreeing to marry him.

And that had been a _major_ achievement, considering the circumstances.

However, after that, the warlock had not had any more chances to talk to the Princess about her heritage.

Ever since then, the mutually agreed 'silence' about magic whenever the Prince was present—which was pretty much… _always_—had gotten systematically in the way, and Merlin had the irksome suspicion the Princess was being more than a little evasive about it.

Though Ennyny had been clear about such difficulty, the young wizard had hoped that with everything now clear amongst them, Gwynn would have been more amicable to embrace who she really was.

_Apparently not... _

As he waked into the training room, his frown morphed into a smile. Perchance this morning his luck would change…

For once Gwynn was alone since Arthur was busy blocking the downpour of blows from the twin blades of Ashraf.

_Finally…_

"Good morning Princess. How is the sparring going?"

"Merlin! What a surprise! Good morning to you." She turned briefly, also smiling, and then moved her attention back to the floor. "I am not sure... At times it seems Ashraf is about to beat Arthur, but he comes back every time."

Merlin stopped for a moment to observe the duel: it was truly impressive. The old master had a very different combat technique, which managed to put the Prince in some tight spots now and then. However, Arthur's impeccable fighting form, coupled with his youth and energy, were obviously winning the day.

_Not to mention…_

"I don't think Arthur would accept defeat with you watching him…" He whispered impishly.

She blushed softly at his teasing suggestion and nodded.

"It would seem so… Then again, I don't think Ashraf will give up easily either." She finished gleefully.

After a brief silence, Merlin tried to broach the thorny issue. "I have been meaning to talk to you about the Morrigan's line, Princess…"

The slight stiffening of her body clearly told him that the subject wasn't welcomed.

"I know…"

"Ennyny asked me to help you with the rite, Princess… We don't have much time and…"

He stopped when reluctant green eyes locked on his. She might have been gracious enough not to dismiss him using her royal status, but that didn't mean she would yield.

"Why do we need to?" It was a rhetorical question and she didn't wait for his answer. "Arthur and I will get married. That's all that matters… The prophecy of which you spoke _will be _fulfilled whether I go through the rite or not."

That was an entirely correct statement and Merlin only nodded timidly waiting for her to continue, as she was obviously not done.

"I do not see the need for it." Her tone became more assertive. "If anything, it could further hinder Arthur's situation with his father."

_How to answer that? _

It was basically true, but by experience the warlock had learned the risks of not heeding advices… Or to leave prophecies unfulfilled for that matter. He tried another venue.

"Princess, Ennyny has insisted and I think we should at least converse about what it would entitle…" He was running out of arguments when something else struck him. "Don't you think that by learning to control your powers you might stop worrying about them and… fearing them?"

_Bull's eye! _The expression on her face told him he had won the hand.

"I suppose…" She acquiesced after a moment of ostensible internal debate.

Merlin was almost savoring his victory when her demeanor changed to enthusiastic again. Only he soon discovered it was _not_ about their upcoming conversation but rather because Arthur had finished training with Ashraf.

"It will have to be later Merlin." She called over her shoulder heading towards the training floor, sword in hand.

"But Princess…"

She turned and shrugged her shoulders, grinning playfully. "I can't now. I want to spar with Arthur and since he's tired, this is a good chance to try and beat him…"

Amidst his mute perplexity and disappointment, the young wizard had no other option but to laugh. This Princess seemed to be a never-ending source of entertainment with her antics and out-of-the-blue occurrences. A handful, really, and Merlin rejoiced in the thought of Arthur having to deal with _all that_.

Although the enamored expression of the Prince when she approached him told the wizard that his friend didn't mind the task in the least…

* * *

Back in Camelot, Gaius worst fears were becoming true: Uther was now actually _listening _to the Steward. The guards had been dismissed and what had started as an inquisition had morphed into a strategy meeting.

More disturbingly, the physician knew all too well the eerie vengeance shining in the King's eyes and the days of the Great Purge came vividly to his memory, freezing his blood.

"I do have some forces loyal to me, Sire" Ruther was saying. "But the royal guard, under the command of Sir Alric…"

The King turned around promptly. "Sir Alric?"

Taken aback by the light of recognition on the King's eyes, the Steward's mind switched to alert mode.

"Do you know the commander, my lord?"

"I… I did. He was the late King's royal guard. King Alwyn and Queen Binne visited Camelot shortly after my wedding, and Sir Alric was a member of the party."

Though unexpected, the information fit perfectly in Ruther's ruse. He smiled inwardly and tailored his account accordingly.

"Of course. And he has been devoted to the Princess ever since the tragic death of my cousin's family..."

There was an incisive pause that prompted Uther to ask.

"However?"

The Steward continued, faking reluctance. "I am afraid that Sir Alric is… deranged, my lord. My niece has convinced him that _I_ was responsible for her family death, and the commander has never sworn allegiance to my reign." He sighed. "The royal army responds to him alone, and it severely surpasses the few men loyal to me."

The King turned to Gaius, panic written all over his face, and the scholar braced for the worst… which soon came in the form of the Steward's next remark.

"Your son, my lord, is not only being held prisoner of her charms… but he is surrounded by forces loyal to her. With nowhere else to turn, I came here for your help, Sire. Perhaps you could send a stronger diplomatic mission and…"

When the King raised his hand to stop him, Ruther knew his victory was secured.

"The time for diplomacy is over, Sir Ruther. I will march to Leoness to bring back my son and to make sure this… sorceress that is your niece cannot cause any more damage."

* * *

The lively and inconsequential chitchat of Helene about the royal engagement was confusing the poor Lescaut even further and his brain was working hard trying to understand where was she going with all this.

It occurred to him that with the Princess completely confiscated by the Prince, Helene must have felt a bit alone—just like he did—and was looking for a friendly conversation partner. But… was their kiss so irrelevant to her that wasn't even worth mentioning?

He was about to scoff in frustration. He would never, _ever_, understand this woman. However, years of practice hiding his feelings proved useful one more time and his face remained impassible.

Meanwhile, far from being absorbed in what she was saying, the petite blonde was studying him carefully; the casual comments being just a façade. After days of internal debate as to how to approach this elusive and uptight knight, she had made her decision: an eventual rejection from Lescaut—though painful—would be far better than this… hazy situation of zillion speculations, and so she decided she would not spend one more moment wondering about him.

Unfortunately, Helene was quickly discovering that facing Lescaut had been easier to plan than execute…

Just when the impenetrable look of those dark eyes began to seriously threaten her resolve, she deemed there had been enough of the trivial talk and asked without any foreword.

"Why did you kiss me?"

If she had suddenly grown two heads, Lescaut wouldn't have looked more shocked than at her sudden question.

There was a silence that might have felt longer than it actually was while the captain tried to rearrange his thoughts and find his voice again.

Her eyes were clear, patiently waiting for an answer, while Lescaut tried and ponder his options: he could apologize as the proper gentle man he was, tell her that it was a spur-of-the-moment reaction, and promise to maintain his distance from now on. Or… he could finally tell her the truth, whatever the outcome would be.

It seemed his heart was ahead of his brain and took the initiative, and his next words came out involuntarily.

"Truth is… I have been wanting to do that every since you were fifteen, Lena."

The statement shook her to the core… _almost_ as much as the use of her nickname. Lescaut hadn't called her that since they were teenagers. For some reason, one day he stopped using the familiar dub and called her Helene from that time onwards…

Already regretting his unplanned admission—nickname included—the knight could clearly see his own surprise mirrored in her confused eyes. Slightly more composed once those first words were out, however inopportune, he switched back to his former option.

"I am very sorry, my lady, if I have offended you. I honestly do not know what came over me after my return…" He sighed. "I believe the thought of loosing you was more than I could bare and… and I…"

But Helene was quite behind in the conversation. Had she heard correctly?

"Did you say … _fifteen_?"

A small smile curved the sensual lips of the warrior at her incredulity and he had to make a serious effort to maintain his distance. He forgot his previous half-cooked apology and chose to answer her latest question.

"Yes. Fifteen."

Her eyes told him she found it hard to believe, but rather than continue talking, the captain waited for her next question, which he was sure would come soon enough.

"But… But… I thought… and you… You never said…"

Okay, maybe not a _fully_ formed question, but she was obviously trying to make sense of it; thus, he helped her.

"How could I? I was seventeen, barely a man, and you broke my heart…"

Helene's head was buzzing… What was he talking about?  
_Break his heart? How?_  
He had never shown any feelings… of _that_ _kind_ towards her.

"You don't believe me."

The distinct sadness in his tone brought her partially out of the carrousel of confusion spinning out of control in her mind.

"How can I, Lescaut? You've never …" She inhaled, shrugging her shoulders in skepticism. "I always thought that it was _you_ who did not even see _ME_…"

He chuckled mirthlessly. She had a point there. Throughout their adulthood he had made a point of _not_ showing or disclosing any feelings in front of her, and now was trapped by his own actions. He figured the situation might have an amusing angle, if one looked hard enough for it.

Perhaps they should revisit some memories together and maybe she would believe him then.

"Do you remember the ball for the court's first appearance of the Princess?"

"Of course."

"Do you remember what we spoke?"

She frowned. What was he referring to? They had been very young…  
Her memories returned a bit blurred.

_The ball had been an awful event for her. Out of all the potential suitors, only the son of Sir Gruffydd, who was her age, had singled her out. _

_Admittedly, she was not sophisticated enough and many of the other young man still saw her as a child. Gwil, however, did not. And although he was also a kid in her eyes, he was nevertheless convinced that every lady in court should be praying for his favors… Except that the beautiful lady in waiting couldn't really stand him._

_She had been so annoyed by the young man that had made up an excuse and told him her feet hurt badly so he would leave her alone. Then Lescaut had approached her._

"_Why such a gloomy face? Aren't you enjoying the party?" He had said._

_Thinking he was mocking her, as he had done for years during their childhood, she chinned up and looked at him defiantly._

"_Not really. I wish there was more pleasant company, but unfortunately everyone here is rather dull."_

_She remembered something strange flashing through his eyes, but could not pinpoint what it was. He smiled cockily._

"_Surely not 'everyone'…"_

_Missing the double meaning of those words, she simply dismissed him and stressed obfuscated. "Believe me, Lescaut, everyone indeed." _

_The stiffening of his body did not impress her either. Ever since he'd been officially appointed as the Princess' guard, he had taken his position to heart and became this proud soldier with squared-out shoulders and solemn stance. His next question, though, did surprise her a bit. _

"_Could I interest you in a dance, then?"_

_She wouldn't have minded dancing with him. After all, they'd practiced during many years together. However, she feared that a dance with Lescaut would cause for her annoying suitor to insist later, so she rejected._

"_Thank you, but I'd rather not."_

_Lescaut had stiffened even further at her answer and had walked away right after. _

Up until now, Helene had not given the event a second thought, and was quite at a loss as to why he'd be bringing it up right now.

"I thought you did it out of pity…" She whispered, blushing.

"Pity?" His bitter scoff almost startled her. "Believe me, my lady, out of all the feelings you've managed to awake in me… _pity_ was never one of them…"

_Did he say feelings? What kind of feelings would he be referring to? _

Helene swallowed hard and decided to concentrate her attention on her hands. Things were not progressing as she had expected and, not sure of where he was going with this recollection of times gone by, she began to feel rather nervous.

Lescaut insisted with the reminiscence. "And do you remember the day _after_ the ball?"

She barely did, but the occasion was too momentous to admit that. She only nodded, prying he would elaborate. He did.

"You spoke with the Princess about unwanted advances…"

The memory came like a thunderbolt and she covered her mouth in a silent gasp of surprise.

_The following morning she had come to the Princess' quarters really infuriated. Lescaut had not been there. Of that she was sure._

"_Why so crossed, Helene… Didn't you enjoy the ball?"_

"_Not in the slightest, my lady. It is beyond me what one should do for a man to understand his advances are not welcomed!"_

_Gwynn had laughed, frankly amused. "I see… And who is this mysterious admirer?"_

_At the question, Helene had stopped her diatribe afraid that the Princess might decide to meddle. She knew well her mistress had a soft spot for romance at that age, and the son of a knight was too good of a prospect to be dismissed like that… particularly for a girl in Helene's position, with no father or fortune. It would not do to let that fact be known._

"_I'd rather not say Gwynn. Please, don't ask me."_

The silence lasted a couple of minutes while she put the puzzle together, finally realizing what Lescaut had hinted.

"Did you hear that?" Her voice was no more than a whisper.

"Yes, I did. The door was ajar, and though it was not my intention to eavesdrop, I could not help it."

She nodded and remained pensive for another moment. Then, a mischievous light began to shine in her gorgeous eyes and she tilted her head.

"And you thought I was speaking of you…"

Now it was the captain's turn to look baffled. If it hadn't been him… who was?

"It… wasn't?"

Helene shook her head, chuckling throatily and sending his blood to an instant boil. "Men… why is it that always everything has to be about _you_?"

His heart was beating so hard he feared it wouldn't jump out of his chest; meanwhile she continued with an amused grin on her lips.

"I was talking about the son of Sir Gruffydd, Gwil, who had pursued me to no end. I didn't want to tell Gwynn his name because I was afraid she would consider improper for me to turn down the son of a knight."

The blush on the young captain's face could have shamed the reddest carnation, and it was a whole new experience for Helene to see this serious knight so flustered. The word '_adorable_' crossed her mind for some reason, and she decided to make it all clear.

"That was also the reason why I wouldn't dance with you. I have told Gwil my feet hurt so he would leave me alone, and I thought that if I danced with you, he'd return to his pursuit…"

Lescaut shook his head, between amused and embarrassed. He had gotten it all wrong and for so many years, he was positive he deserved to be hanged for simpleton… Her next question did not help to ease his self-deprecating thoughts either.

"Why did you never say anything before?"

_Why indeed._

At that moment, the captain was seriously considering bumping his head against the stony wall. He's been an idiot; plain and simple. A cocky adolescent, who after feeling rejected had just picked up his broken heart and never looked back…

The mere thought that his stubbornness could have cost him—and almost did—his happiness, made the idea of smashing his head all the more tempting.

"I have been an idiot." He simply said.

Her laugh was like the balm the rain brings to the dry earth… He felt his embarrassment and regrets washing away and had to restrain himself from coming closer.

"Yes, you have…" She agreed sobering up.

There was a long, soothing pause while they both tried to make sense of those many years of erroneous beliefs and disenchantment. Then Helene spoke again.

"There is one more thing, my lord… You were engaged to be married…"

_Oh… that. _

Lescaut looked down briefly. In all honestly, he had almost forgotten about Lady Gundred. Notwithstanding, this was the time to put everything out in the open. He looked straight into her eyes before responding.

"Our mothers actually arranged the engagement…"

It was probably not the best choice of words, because she arched her eyebrows with a suspicious glance.

"But you accepted."

Internally kicking himself for his lack of eloquence—and blaming it entirely on her alluring presence—the captain made an effort to reorganize his thoughts before finishing his confession.

"Lady Gundred did not call off the engagement. I did…" He inhaled deeply running his hand through his hair. "I thought I could love her, but soon realized my heart would forever belong to another and it was unfair for her… For her sake, we decided to tell everyone that she had canceled the engagement." He smiled sadly. "She did not love me either, so at the end no harm was done."

Helene's eyes softened a bit amidst her surprise. "But… Gwynn said … She thought you were heartbroken…"

"I was indeed." His smile turned even sadder. "But only because I realized at that moment that I could never love anyone else…"

The grey eyes that he so loved pooled with tears at his declaration and the captain felt his heart constrict. In an effort to lift the mood, he grinned playfully.

"As you probably know by now, I was convinced that the object of my affections did not even notice I was alive…"

Though his words were cheerful, his eyes remained fervent and, unable to withstand their intensity, Helene looked down blushing copiously. "Oh… but she did, my lord. And she too was heartbroken when your engagement was announced…"

Feeling encouraged by her own attempt to make light of the situation, Lescaut finally reached for her hand, soft and cold… and trembling.

"And yet you congratulated me effusively, if I recall correctly…"

The teasing undertone in his baritone voice covered her skin with goose bumps and she looked up ready to rebut. His expression, however, took her breath away... There was so much love and passion shining in those dark depths that Helene completely forgot what she was about to say.

"I have loved you my entire life, Lena. Ever since we stopped being children I have been in love with you."

There. It was all out. Now it was only matter to wait for her reaction.

By then, Helene was trembling like a leaf and her throat had contracted almost to the point of choking. Nevertheless, she forced her words out.

"I love you too, Lescaut…" She breathed. "And though I don't know exactly when I stopped seeing you as a friend, you too have been the object of my affections for the longest time."

That was everything the knight needed. That… and her lips, which had been tempting him ever since she had walked into the terrace.

With the brightest smile Helene had ever seen in his handsome face, and absolutely unmindful of their surroundings, Lescaut encaged her in his arms and kissed her fully.

* * *

Gaius hurried to find Lancelot, his old face paled with worry. He had not believed a word the Steward had said. It was highly unlikely that Arthur was enchanted with Merlin at his side to prevent it.

Nonetheless, he did not have any arguments to convince the King, other than disclosing what he knew, which automatically would put his and Merlin's neck at risk. Not to mention that the state of mind of the monarch was obsessed at best.

"Gaius!" Lancelot was surprised to see the physician in the knight's quarters. "What a nice surprise! To what do I own the honor of your visit?"

The expression of the old man looked grave. "I am afraid this is far from a social call, Lancelot, as there are very unsettling tidings those that bring me here."

Lancelot frowned. "Unsettling tidings? Please, do speak."

With a heavy sigh, Gaius sat down and related the visit of the Leoness' Steward and what he feared would be King Uther's next course of action.

"The King has decided to march on Leoness, Lancelot. He's convinced he must rescue Arthur, but I am not sure that is the case. If the Steward is hiding something, as I suspect, there could very well be an unwarranted war between the Kingdoms."

Lancelot was taken aback by the news and sat down as well, confused and worried. Arthur had asked him to protect the King and Camelot, but he was at lost as to how to do it in this case.

He knew the King would not listen to him _at all_. The monarch had not even forgiven his son for granting him Knighthood. Yet he _had_ given the Prince his word and would stand by it... or die trying.

"Is there anything we could do Gaius?"

That was the opening the physician had been hoping for. "Well, I thought that perhaps you could ride to Leoness ahead and warn the Prince. If Arthur is indeed under a spell, however unlikely, between you and Merlin can bringing him back safe and sound. If, on the other hand, this is a machination of the Steward to use the forces of Camelot to dethrone the Princess, you could warn Arthur as well."

It was a good plan. Or rather, it was the only possible course of action at the moment. Lancelot stood up and nodded.

"You are right, of course. I will leave immediately before the King imparts his orders. Whatever the outcome of the orders, at least I will make Arthur aware of the Steward's whereabouts if he does not know of them. Either way, it would be better than a surprise."

* * *

With one arm crossed under his head, Arthur's gaze was lost on the leaves of the tree, now a warm golden color from the arrived autumn, and he felt as relaxed as ever. The placid atmosphere took him back to Eleara, when he had been 'Sir Merlin'—he mentally scoffed at his lack of imagination—and Finnabair simply a 'lady in waiting'.

_Good old times then, good new times now…_

Gwynn was with her horse, trying to teach Ceara to obey her hands' commands. The mare had proven to be _almost_ as obstinate as her owner, but the Princess was succeeding.

_She could teach stubbornness to a herd of mules_. He inwardly smiled.

It had been almost two weeks since the Princess had agreed to marry him and he knew his departure to Camelot was nearing. For the first time in his life, the idea of returning home did not excited him as it usually did.

They had agreed that a prudential time should pass until the wedding anyway. With winter approaching, next summer seemed like a good option.

Besides, he first wanted to find out the whereabouts of Ruther.  
_And kill him on sight. _  
Then, there was the issue of King Uther…

The thought alone made him frown. These last days he had been so _happy_ it almost felt as a dream and he really did not fancy waking up to the harsh reality of the circumstances.

One thing was to have forgiven his father. Another quite different was consenting to continue being a silent accomplish of the King's injustices. Knowing his father, that would certainly mean confrontation and he was _definitely not_ looking forward to it.

"What's the matter?"

The soft voice of the Princess brought him out of his reverie. She had stretched next to him and was perched on her elbow. He had been so immersed in his thoughts he hadn't even noticed her movements.

Looking into her eyes he marveled once more at the forestry richness of their green. Was she even aware of how beautiful she was?

It occurred to him that she truly was not; perhaps one of the treats that had hooked him immediately. Even though her gorgeous outside appearance was only surpassed by her inner beauty, Finnabair seemed absolutely clueless of her charms.

_A lethal combination_, he thought amused, altogether realizing he probably never had a chance to escape her allure. Smiling, he used his free arm to bring her close and answered with a soft and inebriating kiss.

She sighed in his mouth and relaxed on his chest. When they parted, she cradled her head on the nook of his neck, whispering.

"You haven't answered…"

The Prince chuckled thickly wondering what had made him think he could distract her from what she wanted.

"I was thinking that I shall go back to Camelot soon…" He exhaled forcefully tightening his embrace. "And I am not eager to leave your side."

She giggled and moved to kiss his jaw. "Good answer."

Resting back on her forearm to look at him, she tried to be positive about the upcoming separation. "No need to be so gloomy, anyway. After all, we have already gotten much more we could have ever hoped for…"

"How so?"

"Well, I believe that neither of us have ever thought we'd be able to marry out of love rather than out of obligation for our kingdom… And compared with such blessing, I would think that the small inconvenience of a temporary separation is quite a bargain price, wouldn't you?"

She was right. He knew she was. Still, Arthur felt unexpectedly selfish and capricious.

_The hell with the bargain: he wanted it all. He wanted her, and he wanted her now! _

The foolishness of such thoughts made him frown, and misunderstanding his silence Gwynn tried to be optimistic.

"Hopefully, it won't be for long… and we will write to each other."

Shaking his head to clear his mind, the Prince decided he didn't want to dwell on the issue any longer. He would deal with the future when it came, but wasting precious moments with her mulling about what was yet to come, was out of the question.

His frown deepened, but his blue eyes shone with mischievousness.

"And is that supposed to be enough for me?"

In a sudden movement, he flipped her over and trapped her under his body with the slyest of his smiles. The conversation was indeed over.

"I cannot bear to even think waking up so many miles away from you." He kissed her cheek. "Or not knowing where you are every second of the day…" Another kiss; this time on her jaw. "Or with whom you are speaking…"

His lips moved to her neck. "I cannot bear to think that other men would look at you without me being present…" His mouth became more demanding as it moved down her throat. "Or that they may enjoy your laugh when I am not there…" A soft, passionate bite at the base of her neck stressed his next words. "Or that they may covet you…"

By then, Finnabair was already breathing erratically, overwhelmed by the unexpected—albeit extremely welcomed—passionate attack. A soft moan escaped her throat when she spoke hoarsely. "Are you… jealous of me?"

Had the question been posted by anyone else, the Prince would have thought it was plain coquetry. Coming from Finnabair, however, it only meant that the notion had not even crossed her mind.

He did not know whether to laugh or to groan. His future wife was not only clueless about her charms: she did not even know the effect she might have on others!

_Particularly other males_. Perchance he should make his point very clear, so she would get the hint.

"Of course I am!" He grunted fervently. "I am even jealous of the sun that caresses your face!" And then virtually devoured her mouth in a kiss so possessive, it left no doubt he had meant every word.

The vehemence of his admission and the shear passion of his kiss turned Gwynn's world upside down and stole her breath and thoughts, as she melted in his embrace with a contented sigh. Her surrender further fanned the Prince's ardor and in seconds they were completely lost in each other.

With the last vestige of lucidity, Arthur berated himself for his lack of restrain. Ever since their engagement, he had made the firm proposal to control his instincts when they were alone. His future bride had made it perfectly clear her virtue was of no concern for her, and she was an eager and apt pupil of the sensuality game.

_Too apt…_

But the Prince had other plans. As much as he desired this woman—and he did with ever fiber of his being—he would make her his when they were wed.

For everyone their union might simply represent the consolidation of two kingdoms. For Arthur, however, it meant much more than that. It was the beginning of a new era for these lands and a new chapter of his life altogether… Finnabair had not only opened his hardened heart again, but his mind and soul as well. And he wanted everything to be perfect and pure between them.

Nevertheless, and despite all his best intentions, at the moment his hands had already developed a mind on their own and were freely roaming through her frame. And when she wantonly arched her back, he let out a painful grunt in her mouth.

_She would be the death of him... He had always known it…_

"Finnabair..." his voice sounded husky and broken.

"No…" She knew what he was going to say and did not want to hear it. If she had learned anything about these passionate interludes, was that there was something else… Something even more magnificent that although she hadn't tasted yet, she knew she wanted with all her being…

She kissed him and Arthur groaned again, louder, trying to prevent his body from buckling against hers and failing miserably. She had learned how to kiss…

_And just his luck, damn well_.

The notion that _he_ had taught her how to respond to his passion struck something deep and primal in his soul, and he vaguely reckoned he might have reached the end of his teeter for good…

Before the amorous moment got _really_ out of hands, his acute warrior hearing perceived the sound of approaching hooves. He cursed inwardly and retreated.

Pressing his forehead on hers he whispered between erratic pants. "Someone is approaching, Gwynn. Are you all right?"

She was _certainly not_ all right... She had been _so close_ to get what she wanted… But since the interlude was evidently over, there was nothing she could do. With a pout that was almost his undoing, she opened her eyes and nodded, still unable to say anything.

Arthur rolled off her and tried to steady his breathing. Whoever was coming was nearing fast. Then Merlin's voice reached his ears.

"Arthur? Princess?"

"It's Merlin." Arthur grunted between teeth. "I swear I will kill him…"

By then Gwynn was back—almost—to normal and giggled at this crossed statement.

"Oh… shush. Don't forget he can turn you into a toad if he wants…"

Arthur looked at her with a severe scowl that only caused for her giggles to develop into a full amused laugh.

"Here!" He called, shaking his head… only _partially_ amused, and turned towards the sound.

"What is it that you want Merlin…?" To his surprise and further annoyance, Lescaut appeared next to his servant. "Oh… and you brought Lescaut too… Anyone else to join our party…?"

His sarcastic comment died in his mouth when Lancelot came into sight from behind the two riders.

Arthur stood up with a jolt feeling his blood freezing in his veins. Lancelot's presence could only mean one thing: trouble in Camelot.

"Lancelot…"

The words of his knight shook the ground under his feet.

"Sire, your father is marching on Leoness with a large army. They will reach the first garrison tomorrow night, the latest."

Gwynn had stood up as well, visibly shaken by the news. Her voice was barely a whisper when she asked.

"Is the King's intention to wage war against Leoness?"

The silence was all the answer she needed and she looked at Arthur, whose eyes were alarmed and confused. He was dreading to think what might happen… and that she might have been right in her fears. Her next statement told him she was thinking the same thing.

"I have confronted you and your father after all, Prince."

* * *

The somber expression of everyone in the room left no doubt of the gravity of the situation. Lancelot had related what he had learned from Gaius regarding the visit of the former Stuart, and what had developed from that. Once he was done, Sir Alric scoffed incredulous.

"But that's just preposterous! We should simply intercept King Uther and explain that it's all a lie of a traitor!"

Arthur was extremely worried, not sure of what to say at the moment. His gaze kept digging into the Princess' profile. She had been silent and detached during their ride back to the Citadel and he could not fathom what she was thinking. But the words of the older knight brought him back rather quickly.

"It will be better if I go with my knights, Sir." He paused uncomfortably. "Alone."

Even though the commander appreciated the offer of the young royal and understood his awkward position, he was still convinced that this was simply a misunderstanding.

"We will not hide in the Citadel, Sire. We will claim Ruther as the traitor he is. I have met your father long ago, Arthur, and back then he earned my utmost respect. I am sure he will understand…"

_No, Sir Alric, he would never…_

"I am afraid is not that simple, Sir. You've met my father before my mother died. He…" The Prince looked for words that were suddenly hard to say. "He's changed since then..." And inhaling forcefully, he finished with a somber tone. "My father's hatred of magic has made him blind to everything else…"

The senior officer failed to see the magnitude of the problem. "But that's the point, your highness. Your father has been misinformed about magic and…"

At last, Gwynn spoke.

"No Sir Alric, he has not."

Everyone turned to the Princess, expectant; her words confusing the entire audience. Except Arthur, who felt his heart climbing to his throat.

_She was about to disclose her powers!_

His instincts told him that this was not the place, much less the_ time_ to make such crucial confession, and moved to prevent it.

"Exactly. He has not been misinformed but… rather his weakness on the matter has been manipulated by the former Steward." Silently pleading her to acquiesce, he shot her a meaningful look.

Though she did not fully understand the reasons for his intervention, the Princess figured it was best to play along. Later, if possible, she would ask him why.

"Yes… That's what I meant…" She timidly conceded and Arthur let out a breath he did not know he was holding.

Gwynn then continued in a more assertive tone.

"I think we should trust the Prince on this, Sir Alric. I am sure he would do everything to prevent a conflict. I have full confidence in him."

Her words sounded heavenly in Arthur's ears. At least her trust on him was intact. Amidst the terrible situation, that was a solace for his troubled soul.

"Very well then. As you wish, your highness." Sir Alric turned then to the Prince. "You have proven to be a man of honor, Sire, and a good ally of Leoness and its royal house. I trust you will be able to solve this unfortunate misunderstanding with your father."

Arthur nodded, forlornly thinking that it might not be so easy. Addressing Lancelot, he commanded.

"We ride in two hours. Alert the knights."

* * *

He was already garbed in chainmail and battle gear, waiting for her in the antechamber. His stiff posture in front of the portrait of her family brought her back memories of the night when she had shared her best-guarded secret with him. She stopped to look sadly at his mighty back, tense and rigid.

Just like that night, her perfume gave her away before her steps did and Arthur turned.

"We are ready to leave." He said with an attempt of a smile.

Gwynn nodded and moved closer. She could feel his anguish all the way to her bones, blending with hers, and amplifying almost to the point of physical ache.

This was not fair… It was a cruel joke of fate to let them taste a bit of bliss just to whisk it away so violently.

Oddly enough, her eyes had remained dry. Whether it was because the actual implications hadn't settled in yet, she wouldn't know; but the fact was that she hadn't shed a single tear.

Perhaps it was because she was accustomed to have happiness ripped from her at a moment notice, she pondered. Throughout her dramatic past, she had to deal with immense losses and had learned about resignation. Yet she feared Arthur's position was possibly harder. He had been blessed with a carefree life in most aspects, and whatever concessions he might have been forced to make in the past were nothing compared with what they were both renouncing now.

Hoping to ease his disposition, she tried to redirect his attention to more practical matters. Her own misery was of not importance… All that mattered was _he…_

"Why did you stop me from telling Sir Alric the truth?"

As usual, her words caught him off-guard.

"I do not know." He shrugged his shoulders tiredly. "I just thought that the less people know about your powers, the safer it would be for you."

She nodded again and remained quiet. What to say in a moment like this? She wished she could think of something wise and profound to lessen his anguish.

But as nothing useful came to her mind, she looked down in defeat. While doing so, however, her eyes discovered something on his belt and her mouth spoke before she knew it.

"What's that?"

The Prince's eyes narrowed in confusion and surprise, and he concluded he'd never completely understand the reactions of this Princess. They were about to say goodbye to each other—perhaps forever—and she was… _curious_.

_Way to deflect the farewell Princess… _

In any case, he also thought he should thanked her for bringing up such thorny subject since he had not had the time to reflect on a sensible way to approach it.

Right then, the realization that she was once again helping his plight felt like salt on a wound. Gwynn was certainly his perfect match in ways he would not have thought possible… and he would have to give her up.

"Our marriage treaty." There was no emotion in his voice. "I asked Sir Alric for it. I think I may need it to convince my father that I am not enchanted and we are not getting married."

_Except that you have indeed enchanted me and given the chance, I would renounce to my claim to the throne to marry you… _

The Princess took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, regaining her composure. The tears that had apparently taken a leave moments ago came back with a vengeance and filled her eyes. But she reigned on them, not wanting to add to his burden. Arthur was right and the most important issue was to prevent a bloody war with Camelot.

_Whatever the price_.

The knot in the Prince's throat tightened even further. It was as if he could read her thoughts like an open book. Adding to his despair, he recognized that her own regality understood his reasons… even if her feelings could not.

_The Princess comprehends motives the woman in her might not; just like his regal condition forced him to make decisions his human soul would not._

They were both trapped by duty. Bound by their titles and their obligations to their people.

A sudden rage flooded him. What of their feelings? Were those inconsequential because they were royals? Was that even fair?

Was being born out of privilege _actually _a privilege? Or was just a golden and miserable cage from which there was no possible escape?

The silence was becoming deafening in the room. Both knowing that their time together was rapidly coming to an end, and yet absolutely incapable to part from each other.

It was Gwynn who took the initiative and closed the distance; the need to feel his arms and the support of his chest too big to resist.

Arthur gathered her in a powerful embrace and sighed deeply, breathing her in. His eyes shut in desperation.

_Gods… how he loved this woman._

There, in his arms, Gwynn let her guard down and hot tears of sorrow ran down her cheeks at last. She had tried to be courageous and self-reliant, but truth was she was scared.

Scared for Leoness, scared for Arthur… and scared for what might happen between them. She had not wanted, but she asked nonetheless.

"What is going to happen?"

Arthur pressed her further onto his chest wishing he had the answers to appease her fears.

"I do not know, Gwynn."

She involuntary shivered at his honesty and he felt the raw need to reassure her… at least in what he could at the moment.

"But I can promise you this: no harm will come to you or Leoness, Princess. No matter what. You _must know_ that." He stressed.

She sighed and lifted her face towards his. Her wide eyes full of angst. "I know, Arthur. I just…"

_I just want to know what will happen between us…_

The words didn't need to be voiced... They both knew what she meant and the hopelessness in his eyes made Gwynn promptly realize it was an utterly unfair question.

Forcing a smile, she backed up a little and encased his handsome face with her hand.

"I should know better than to ask that." She admitted. "My father taught me I should not promise things I may not be able to fulfill… And I should grant others the same courtesy and do not ask for them."

The diversion worked and a glimmer of smile, albeit a sad one, began to curve his lips. "Your father was a very wise man."

Determined to try and keep things as neutral as possible, Gwynn moved a couple of steps away and faced the portrait.

"I'd like to think so, though I have very few memories of him. As a ruler, he was always busy and he spent most of his fatherly time with Aylwin, being that he was the natural heir to the throne."

There was no resentment or sadness in her words. She was simply stating a fact. Nevertheless, the Prince's heart constricted in pain.

_And now you are the heir and the responsibility rests on your shoulders_.

The gloomy thought brought forth another even more disturbing to his mind, and he couldn't help but voicing it.

"I imagine Sir Alric would want to marry you soon…"

Without turning, she smiled cryptically as if she had been expecting the statement and answered nonchalantly.

"Probably."

_Probably? So, that was it?_

Dejected, Arthur walked towards the window to hide his disappointment. She would marry somebody else and he would spend his life loving the impossible…

The anguish already tightening his chest kept growing to unbearable levels until it was mercifully haltered by her next comment.

"I am certain he will try…" She continued slowly, seemingly absorbed in the painting. "That does not mean he will succeed."

Caught off-guard once again the Prince turned vividly on his heels. Had he heard correctly? He stood frozen for a second until her wicked smile made his knees began to buckle.

_Apparently so… _

In two strides he was in front of her, and in one swift movement he had her in his arms again. His eyes finally alive, lighting up his face.

"He won't?"

Her treacherous grin widened, speeding his pulse to an impossible rate. "You really ought to have more faith…"

But she couldn't finish as his lips crashed on hers with the power of a maelstrom. She kissed him back with equal passion and immerse in that whirlwind of love, Arthur felt… invincible.

Such feeling bore a strong similarity with what he had experienced the first time he had wielded Caldabolg. Though he soon realized it had_ never_ been the sword…

_Her love_ made him feel invincible …

The clear notion filled him with an iron-willed resolution and over her lips he vehemently promised. "I will challenge your father's wisdom on this my love: I do not know how. Or when. But _I will _make you my wife Gwynn… If you would still have me."

The smile on her face spoke of her abiding faith in him, and when the green sparkle of mischief returned to her eyes, Arthur had the intuition she might have been expecting this all along.

"I am quite certain every rule has its exception my Prince." She teased and gasped when he softly bit her lower lip. "I will wait for you till the end of times, my love. _You_ must know that."

Her vows and the endearment did the trick and at least for a short-lived moment, Arthur felt at peace again. He kissed her one more time with all the love in his heart and in that tight embrace they tacitly sealed their pact.

* * *

Dawn was already upon the cavalry after they passed the last Leoness' garrison. The ride through dusk and night had been neck breaking, but they had managed to make good time.

Sir Alric had insisted in accompanying them along with some Leoness guards until Caer-Maeve. His intention to appease Sir Eadfrid—the garrison's commander—in case the Camelot army had already been spotted by the advanced scouts.

Fortunately, no one knew anything. Apparently not even at the next and farthest post, which meant that King Uther was still out of Leoness' territory.

If Arthur knew his father—and he was hoping with all his might he did—the King would have chosen to set the last camp right at the border with Leoness. From there on, the terrain was in favor of the smaller kingdom, and therefore the main army would have to be carefully divided to approach the Citadel from different fronts. The Prince's goal was to reach his father there and _before_ the attack plans were set in motion.

During the first part of the trip, the affable Sir Alric had been trying to make conversation with Arthur now and then. Merlin had wondered about the Leoness' commander's relaxed demeanor, realizing that the older knight had no idea of the gravity of the situation. Arthur, on the other hand, had undoubtedly a hell burning inside and had nevertheless remained very polite and courteous throughout the exchange.

It also dawned on the warlock that no one in the party—except for him—knew the true depth of the Prince's predicament, and once again he felt a growing admiration at the royal bearing of his friend.

After leaving Caer-Maeve a dreadful silence had settled within the Camelot company, which was now riding alone. Although not privy to the details, all knights were aware of the delicate circumstances and, more importantly, the somber deportment of their Prince and commander.

The road along the cliffs ended at the top of a hill and from there they finally saw the banners of Camelot out in the distance. There was still a long way to go, but at least the marching forces were in sight.

Everyone shrugged inwardly at the massiveness of the encampment. It was obvious that King Uther meant business. It was not a single battalion—as many would have hoped—but a large army destined to take over Leoness, and with a single strike.

At last, Lancelot spoke with a hopeful smile. "We will reach them in time, Sire."

The Prince only nodded, but the stern frown on his forehead and the clenching of his jaw did not falter.

Also reassured they'd be able to stop the King before he crossed Leoness' borders, Sir Leon added with a positive tone. "This is surely a misunderstanding, Sire. Once you speak with your father, everything will be all right."

"We'll see."

That was all the response he got from the Prince, who kicked his horse to gallop downhill. Before doing the same, Lancelot shot a questioning look at Merlin, who subtly shook his head.

Things were _not _likely to be all right…

* * *

The encounter with his father was far worse than Arthur had foreseen. After a brief moment of relieved surprise seeing his son returned, Uther had launched a passionate diatribe about the 'evil sorceress' and how they have been tricked.

At first the Prince had tried to reason with the enraged monarch, but following a few futile attempts, he chose to keep his mouth shut realizing that nothing he could say would change the King's conviction.

The note Gaius had sent to Merlin had warned that the Steward had likely fanned Uther's obsession with magic during their talks. The old physician did not have all the details, but just by referring the conversation to which he had been witness, it was clear that Ruther had known very well which buttons to push for the Camelot King to act.

Worst of all, the hypocrisy of the entire situation had filled the Prince's mouth with a foul taste.

In any other circumstance, he might have confronted his father once again—perhaps without a sword this time—about his birth. The current one, however, was precarious enough as it was. Admitting he was aware of the grim tidings with sorcery of his father's past would only achieve worsening an already dangerous state of affairs.

While the King's tirade faded into the background, Arthur also realized that a part of him—_the_ _son_—would have wanted to share with his father his own experience in Leoness and Caerfyrddin… Everything he had learned; the amazing internal voyage that had taught him so much. Perhaps even show his fantastic sword and proudly recount how he had solved the centuries-old riddle with the help of Finnabair, no less.

But the other part—_the_ _Prince_—knew that nothing would make a difference. The King's eyes were deranged in a way he had never seen before and he remembered the prophetic words of Ennyny.

"_His resentment would be his demise."_

Looking at the ranting monarch, for the first time the Prince saw his father for what he was: a very disturbed man, full of bitterness and hatred, and trapped by his own paranoia.

Gwynn had been right all along. He had wanted to believe that, eventually, his father could see reason. But wishing that things were different did not make them so.

It was truly a defining moment in the life of the young Prince: the son's love for his father battling the Heir's sense of duty for his kingdom…

Arthur felt his insides turning.

He had sworn loyalty to his King and he would not break that oath. All the same, he also knew he had an obligation to the people of Camelot and Leoness, and could not let this madness continue either.

Yet this was not a moment to dwell on his conflicting sentiments. The pressing matter was to convince his father to go back to Camelot.

Sighing, he tried again. "You have been misinformed, father. I have canceled the treaty, as I told you I would. There is no need to attack Leoness. They pose no risk to Camelot."

Not surprisingly, Uther wasn't listening.

"Arthur… My son… You do not know the dangers of magic as I do… I have kept you protected of the evilness of it, but your idea of going to Leoness have put you directly in harm's way…"

"Father, please, _listen_ to me: I am _not_ enchanted!" The forceful statement was followed by a thud of the parchment hitting the table. "Here you have your treaty; rejected. Look at it!"

The King's eyes told him his tone was out of line to address his ruler, but Arthur withstood the glare with one of his own. After a moment of a silent clash of wills, Uther finally looked at the document.

Something akin a pang went through the Prince's heart when he saw his father's internal battle between believing what it was in front of his eyes… or what he _wanted_ to believe; and he reckoned that his word—whether as son or as heir—was obviously not enough when magic was concerned.

Locking up once again his personal woes, the Prince continued in a more contained tone. "I am ready to return to Camelot with you, Sire. The lady of Leoness is not a sorceress. Everything is well."

At last Uther lifted his eyes from the manuscript, frowning and still seemingly unconvinced. "Then why would Sir Ruther risk coming to Camelot with such lie?"

_Good question._

"He certainly took a big gamble in doing so, Sire. Then again, he knew he would have been hanged for treason had he stayed in Leoness." A recriminatory glare he could not longer contain shone in Arthur's eyes. "And apparently, he also knew that you'd be inclined to believe _anything_ that would align with your abhorrence for magic…"

The King opened his mouth, but the Prince wasn't done.

"Please, father. Spare me an encore of your discourse about the dangers of magic." He paused for a second to reign on his constantly mounting fury. "The point _is_ he was able to use your obsession in his favor and manipulate you to get what _he _wanted."

The unreadable expression of his father's eyes made Arthur briefly wonder whether he was getting through the monarch or not. In any case, he needed to resolve this quandary and fast. With a softer tone, he finished.

"Had I not found you here father, you _would_ have attacked Leoness, a country with which Camelot has no quarrels... I'm just glad I reached you before something irreparable happened."

Disturbed, Uther backed slightly. Arthur was right. His pride might not allow him to say it, but the little clarity he still possessed told him that with his son safe and without the treaty, there was no reason to attack Leoness.

Meanwhile, Merlin had camouflaged himself in a corner, surprised beyond belief at the self-control his friend was displaying. It was amazing how much Arthur had changed in all this time away from Camelot.

Had this discussion taken place not too long ago, he would have expected an enraged King facing and even more enraged Prince. But this was definitely not the case: Arthur was showing a restraint fit for a ruler.

Just as a couple of days before, Merlin had the keen awareness he was no longer in front of the bratty Prince, but rather the once and future King Arthur.

His reflections were cut short by King Uther's next roar, though.

"Bring me the Steward!"

Before the outside guards could fulfill the order, however, Sir Leon burst into the tent with a squire from Camelot and panic written all over his face. His state of anxiety seemingly matched the one of the young man, and he didn't waste time in preambles.

"Sire, a massive force of Saxons is coming from the north."

With eyes wide with fear, the squire spoke out of breath. "They are thousands Sire! I've never seen an army so large… They appeared out of nowhere and they're marching incredibly fast. They are closing in Camelot as we speak!"

The King paled, his head spinning. Between the discussion with Arthur, the lies of the Steward and this news, Uther felt trapped.

Across the tent and quite the opposite, white cold fury surged through the Prince's veins and he clenched his jaw. It would seem that his father's obsession could not only be _his _demise… but that of his beloved kingdom.

Nevertheless, this was not the time for reproaches or accusations. Camelot was in dire need and they needed to move quickly. Squaring his shoulders, Arthur held sway on his frustration and looked at the King awaiting instructions.

But nothing came… The world was crumbling under Uther's feet when he looked at his son. Arthur's blue eyes reminded him of his beloved Ygraine and, for a second, he felt as she was admonishingly looking at him through the Prince. _He _had emptied the Citadel following the lie of the Steward and now it might be too late.

Seeing the state of shock of the monarch, the Prince took immediate charge of the situation voicing what everyone was thinking.

"Camelot is defenseless."

The words struck the King even further. He would never admit it, but this was his fault. Although his enormous ego tried to tell him that his actions had been justified, another part—the pragmatic ruler that still existed in him—knew he had made a terrible call.

Oblivious of what was going on in his father's mind Arthur carried on, his commanding presence filling the tent.

"Leon, send scouts and alert the other commanders immediately. We will have to intercept the Saxons before they reach our lands. They will burn everything standing and kill everything that moves…"

He then turned to his father. "We must prepare for war after all, Sire."

* * *

Ruther was savoring his near victory. The King had acted exactly how he hoped and they were coming into Leoness with the great Camelot army.

Confident and self-assured, his face lost all his colors when the flaps of his tent opened and he was faced with the King… and his son. He didn't have time to ask how the Prince had made it in, when the youngest Pendragon spoke, his voice cold as ice.

"Sir Ruther, explain again how is that you told my father I was enchanted and marrying your niece."

The Steward then knew it: his time had come. He was unquestionably trapped and justice had finally caught up with him.

* * *

"You called, young warlock. What is it that you want of me?"

Merlin paid no heed to the distinctively annoyed tone of the dragon, nor he wasted time rejoicing in the fact that Kilgharrah had indeed obeyed his call. Things were extremely grave.

"You know why. The Saxons… You and Myrddin warned about the great battle for Camelot… Is this what you meant?"

"Perhaps…"

Although he should have known that the mystical creature would not make it easy for him, Merlin had neither the patience nor the time for more riddles.

"I know you know more than you say. I _command_ you to tell me."

The dragon stiffened, noticeably upset.

"Careful, your warlock. You should know better than to abuse the sway you have over me. A dragon-lord bond is too serious to be trifled with…"

"And so is the future of Albion!" Merlin adamantly retorted. "If you know something that could help Arthur and Camelot right now, I need you to be clear."

The dragon looked intently at the small creature in front of him, silently studying him. At last, he conceded.

"You have certainly grown, young warlock. It seems that your visit to your homeland had taught you a great deal."

Since that was a compliment—a rare occurrence particularly coming from Kilgharrah—Merlin did not want to be ungrateful and nodded in appreciation. But he was feeling really anxious, he needed answers and he should return to the camp before his absence was noticed.

Miraculously, for once the dragon seemed to understand his urgency and continued with the matter at hand.

"Very well then. Indeed the Saxons are marching, yes. And Morgause is with them."

Merlin swallowed in panic. Barbarians and an evil sorceress united were certainly a _perfect storm_… A recipe for destruction and death… Still, the motives of such coalition were not necessarily clear for him.

"Morgause has an alliance with the Saxons? Why?" He remembered the words of Arthur about the raiding pattern of the enemy. "They will not share any spoils with her…"

Kilgharrah scoffed.

"The witch's intentions are not about spoils of war, young warlock. Her hatred towards Uther is strictly personal." Then his voice became darker. "She simply wants to see the Pendragon dynasty ended."

That, on the other hand, was conceivable when Merlin thought about it. After all, as a rejected illegitimate daughter, her vengeance was possibly her only motive. Not to mention, Morgause had already tried to destroy the ruling house of Camelot and failed.

However, why would the Saxons have _her_ as an ally then? He thought for a minute and a cold terror crept the wizard's spine. Unless…

"Is this a magical army?"

"That I do not know. They are, however marching at great speed and not stopping."

For Merlin, 'not stopping' translated into 'no need for eat or sleep', and _that_ sounded _a lot_ like magic to him. Things were far worst than he had first imagined. Frantic, he continued his questioning.

"But can they be killed? Can they be defeated?"

The dragon seemed to understand the boy's anxiety and something akin to sympathy shone in the golden eyes of the beast. His tone softened as well.

"They are still humans, if that is what you ask. But it would take more than the Camelot's army to defeat them…"

"What do you mean?"

There was a moment when Kilgharrah seemed to ponder on something, but before Merlin could urge him, he spoke again.

"Perhaps it would be better if you see it for yourself…" Though a bit reluctantly, the dragon offered. "I will take you where they are."

* * *

"Merlin! Where the hell have you been! I've been looking all over for you."

Walking into the tent, the warlock completely ignored the royal outburst.

"I was gathering intelligence."

The extremely grave demeanor of his servant immediately caught the Prince's attention but before he could further pursue, Merlin's next question redirected the focus of the exchange to another matter.

"How did it go with your father?"

Arthur went back to his weapons and sighed, visibly upset. "As good as it could be expected. He is… I do not know."

He really didn't; or at least, didn't want to put an adjective to his father's disposition because, sadly, the word _deranged_ was the only one in his mind at the moment. Everything that had happened in the last couple of hours had taken a toll in the King, and the Prince feared what might come to pass in the near future.

"What of the Steward?"

"Father executed him and his commander as soon as we received news of the Saxon invasion." The Prince scoffed bitterly, temporarily lifting his attention from his sword. "At least something good has come out of all this mess."

It was poetic justice, Merlin thought. The King who hated magic the most was the one to finally avenge the magical Princess, living descendant of the gods of the Old Religion. He chose not to comment on that, but somehow knew Arthur was thinking along the same lines.

Then the Prince came back to his initial question and turned, frowning. "Did you just say you were _gathering intelligence_?"

Merlin nodded and his expression put Arthur on guard. Although he had lost count of all the times Merlin had been panicky and in all sorts of fearful moods, _this_ was totally different. His friend knew something he did not, and it was evidently something _truly alarming_.

"I saw the army, Arthur. It is… colossal. They are coming well armed and advancing extremely fast."

Eyes narrowed on his servant, the royal remained silent intuitively guessing there was more. Surely enough, Merlin continued.

"It gets worse: Morgause is with them."

The name of the sorceress struck the Prince and this time he sat on the cod rubbing his face in frustration. His worst nightmares were becoming reality all at once…

His hopes of happiness had been taken away from him in an instant; his father was ostensibly shaken and unhinged by the entire situation… and now this: his sworn enemy and Nemesis was marching on his Kingdom along with the worst barbarian army ever to set foot on this lands.

Amidst his chaotic thoughts, however, one stupid little thing came clear to his mind. He lifted his face again, suspicion written all over his blue gaze.

"How did you…"

But the mute response in Merlin's eyes was unmistakable: _"Do you really want to know?"_

"Right. Don't tell me." He grumbled standing up to go back to his preparations.

The warlock spoke again. "You should send word to Leoness…"

"No." The answer came determined and incontestable. "Out of question. We will have to face them alone. Leoness' army though skilled is not very large… And they've never faced a war of this magnitude... The last thing I need now is to worry about Gwynn going into battle and…"

It was the right decision and the warlock knew it. Nevertheless, there was another reason; a far more worrisome one.

"You don't understand. This invasion is not meant for Camelot alone, Arthur."

The statement made the Prince's heart jump to his throat. He faced his servant once more, suspecting what was next and hoping he was wrong. He was not.

"They have already taken hold of most of Cenred's lands and will take every kingdom they find." Merlin paused, dreading his next words. "Leoness included."

* * *

Gwynn woke up with a start. Something had disturbed her sleep and it took her a while to understand what was going on: there was strange activity in the corridors.

Alarmed, she got up quickly and as soon as she was about to open her door, Lescaut's knocks startled her.

"Lescaut! What's the matter?"

"Saxons, my lady. Prince Arthur sent word that a massive army is closing towards Camelot… and us."

"Saxons!" A cold fear began creeping through her spine when the name of her Prince sunk in.

_Arthur!_

"What of King Uther's threat then?"

Lescaut frowned, instantly aware of his slip-up. In his haste to warn her about the imminent danger, he had forgotten the other news, which—though inconsequential in light of the looming Saxon invasion—for her was undoubtedly equally important, if not more. A small grin appeared in his face.

"Apparently things have been taken care of, my lady. We have not received much details, but we have been informed that the Steward has been executed by the Camelot King."

The Princess gasped in surprise... Was that actually true? Was she free of Ruther for good? The reassuring eyes of her guard told him so and it took a second for her to grasp the full implications.

_She was finally safe…_

When the fact settled in, her smile could have lighted up the entire castle and Lescaut inwardly thanked his good fortune. Albeit by coincidence, _he_ had been the one to give her the momentous news. A good alternative to actually_ killing_ the bastard when one thought about it, he reasoned, even more pleased.

But with that one problem seemingly solved, there were much graver troubles afoot, and he had a specific mission to fulfill right now.

"Please, my lady, stay in your room. The war council is meeting as we speak and I was commanded to make sure you are kept safe."

Gwynn nodded softly, but her expression was meditative and she was evidently thinking of something else. And Lescaut knew well that look of hers… He _knew_ she was going to do something…

"Princess, please… Do not…"

Shaking her head as if dismissing her thoughts, Gwynn put on her most innocent smile and promptly answered.

"I won't do anything _unnecessarily_ reckless if that's what you were going to say."

He nodded, but was still unconvinced. In order to dismiss him gently, she charged him with a new task.

"Could you please fetch Wledyr for me then?"

Later, much later, Lescaut would think back at her request and wonder why she had not asked for Helene first… And most importantly, what _'unnecessarily reckless'_ could have meant.

* * *

Helene walked briskly through the palace corridors very worried at the latest news and the fact that Gwynn had not called on her earlier. As soon as she stepped into the royal chambers, however, she almost fell backwards at the sight of the Princess and Wledyr dressed like peasants… _Male peasants!_

"Oh, Helene. Good, you're here."

"Gwynn… what?"

Both 'peasants' were diligently packing small travel bags, apparently in a hurry. Since the Princess' attention had shifted back to stuffing her sack, Helene looked quizzically at Wledyr who only shrugged her shoulders in resignation.

It was only after she closed her bag that the Princess decided to enlighten—if the term applied—her confused lady in waiting.

"I should have heeded Ennyny's advice and go through the rite of the Morrigan's when I had the chance. I just hope it's not too late…"

Trying to understand her mistress' intentions was quite often a difficult job, and particularly so when she chose to speak in riddles. Nevertheless, the disguises told Helene that wherever they were going it was a dangerous place for ladies… which basically meant the Princess _should not_ be going there!

"This is madness Gwynn! You cannot…"

But the Princess raised her hand in a commanding gesture she seldom—if ever—used with her friend. And when she spoke, it was clear that her royal highness the Lady of Leoness had irrevocably taken office.

"The powers of my great-great-grandmother Finnabair protected our harbor when the time came… I _will not_ see Leoness fall to barbarians because I was afraid of embracing my lineage."

Confronted with such inexorable determination, Helene knew any further argument would be useless. Then Gwynn walked towards her and grabbed her hands; the royal eyes were soft but resolute.

"I need you to cover for me. Lescaut had confined me to my rooms and I need you to make sure he does not suspect anything." Her gaze went to Wledyr and back to Helene. "No one but the three of us knows about my powers and it is better for the moment that stays that way."

Helene was left with no options but to acquiesce. She nodded sympathetically and was rewarded with a bright smile and a tender farewell embrace.

As the two 'boys' were making their way trough the back door of the chambers, she couldn't help but to ask.

"Where are you going then?"

From the threshold, the Princess smiled and her green eyes glowed with vehemence.

"To find my heritage."


	39. Chapter 39: Ghosts from the Past

SAME DISCLAIMER AS IN CHAPTER 1

Apologies for such a long hiatus. As usual, time has been scarce.

I had intended for this chapter to go up sooner, but I wanted to tie all loose ends and it became too long.  
So, I split it in two and here it's the first part.

I must warn you, though, that it's a quite dynamic chapter, with several scenes occurring in parallel. I truly hope it's clear and easy to read. You'll be the judge.

On a related news, you'd probably be happy to learn that there is one (two the most) chapters to go and the story will be done at last!  
It's been a nice ride… Long but fun, at least for me, and I surely hope for you too.

Thanks very much to all the kind reviewers. Your words have really pushed me forward throughout this journey, so keep them coming!

All right. Enough chitchat. On with the story…  
(Boy… It's good to be back ;-))

* * *

_**Chapter 39: Ghosts from the Past **_

The guards at Caer Maeve did not notice anything strange about the two boys that crossed their post. They said they were going to Eleara to warn about the situation upon orders of the Princess, and they had a message with the Princess' seal to prove it.

After successfully clearing the first hurdle, Wledyr saw a shadow of a smug smile on Gwynn's face and decided to break her silence.

"Are you sure about this?"

Blinking repeatedly and somehow surprised that her timid companion had chosen to speak, the Princess shrugged her shoulders.

"Not really; but I don't see any other way…"

There was a hint of resignation mixed up with excitement in the answer, and the curly blonde smiled, feeling encouraged.

"Are you going to look for the young warlock then?"

"The young warlock?" The frown in the royal brow emphasized the bewildered tone of the question.

"Yes, Merlin…"

Bringing her horse to a full stop, Gwynn opened her mouth; first in surprise, then in question, and only the third time something came out.

"Wledyr… you knew?"

Stopping her horse as well, Wledyr turned and shrugged her shoulders, suddenly amused at the astonished expression of her riding companion.

"Not at first, but I sensed some special bond between grandmother and him. And then, when she asked him to go to Bryn Myrddin, I suspected he might have been the famous _Emrys_ grandmother spoke of for many years."

"Emrys?"

"Don't you remember Ennyny's stories? The powerful dragon-lord…?

The frown deepened. "Vaguely… I thought those were just children's stories she told us to go to sleep…"

"Yes. But they were also Feldem's prophecies; and many others before her…"

"And you say that Merlin _is_ Emrys?

"I believe so." She shook her head, amazed. "It is obvious grandmother knew you'd come to your senses about your powers…"

Gwynn was perplexed. It would seem she had been a bit thick about the entire situation. How could that have escaped her? Perhaps the fact that it was the Prince who occupied her thoughts completely would have something to do with it? She chuckled somberly.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because it was obviously a secret. Just like your powers." Wledyr sighed. "You know how grandmother is…"

The Princess assented; Ennyny would never disclose anything beyond what she wanted, which brought another interesting question to mind: what else would Ennyny know about the current situation? And she was about to voice it when a distant sound reached her ears, instantly changing the focus of her attention.

"Listen!"

In the middle of the apparent silence of the road, it was Wledyr's turn to be puzzled.

"I don't hear anything…"

But a second later, the Princess instinctively identified the growing rumble.

"Horses! Someone is following us!"

Amidst her momentary panic, Gwynn was unwilling to believe Helene would have betrayed her trust. Then again, perhaps her lady in waiting did not have any other choice.

"We must hide…" She looked around, frantically. "Over there, behind those rocks!"

They moved quickly out of the path behind a couple of large boulders and dismounted. After some very long minutes, a company of Royal Guards passed them by in a frantic gallop.

Only after the echo of the hooves had completely faded away, the two ladies mounted again. A tense silent enveloped them until Wledyr spoke their mutual concern out loud.

"Do you think they are looking for us?"

"I do not know…" The initial complacency after clearing Caer Maeve without a hitch was quickly giving way to the notion that her plan had not been thoroughly conceived. Nevertheless, Gwynn refused to dwell on the idea and kicked her horse. "We'll have to be all the more careful now, but I MUST find Merlin. Hurry up!"

* * *

The war council was in full swing in the royal tent. The Prince had tried to be patient and maintain his place, but he knew his father's idea of returning to Camelot and wait for a full frontal attack was suicidal.

After the first messenger, information about the imminent danger had been pouring into the camp. Apparently, even people for Cenred's outlying villages had come to King Uther for help. Under the looming threat of a foreign invasion, neighboring squabbles were quickly forgotten and peasants ran to the closest standing Lord for protection.

Nevertheless, the information was conflicting at best. Some said the Saxons were advancing to the south, some said to the west and even some came with the notion that the troops were moving east.

Arthur surmised that the real reason from such contradictory intelligence was the shear size of the advancing front and the unprepared nature of the observers; most of them were rustic villagers with no much instruction and a lot of panic. A long enough front line would appear to move into several directions depending on the location of the observers.

Which meant that this was indeed an invasion of the likes they had never seen before... Just like Merlin had said.

The situation was certainly dire and yet no one in the council had dared suggesting asking Leoness for help. Everyone was afraid of the King's reaction, knowing full well that Uther's pride would turn into a downright fury if such course of action were hinted.

As luck would have it—and for totally different motives—Arthur actually agreed with his father on that. Except his reasons were exclusively related with Gwynn's safety.

If he knew her—and he was positive that was the case—the warrior Princess would not sit idle and send her men to war. She would ride with them.

And while he truly admired her courage and acknowledged her excellent fighting skills, Finnabair had never been in battle, for one; and tended to act rather than think, for another. The latter far more worrisome as was liable to get her killed very quickly.

No. Whatever the outcome, the young Pendragon did not want to worry about that as well.

Military outposts and scouts had been promptly sent to the north, but it would take some time to get some actually meaningful intelligence from them. Meanwhile, they could not waste any time.

When the debate reached yet another impasse, the Prince tried his argument once again.

"We need to take advantage of the fact that the Saxons do not know the Camelot forces have been split between the City and the Leoness' border."

Uther remained silent and unyielding. A senior officer intervened.

"Prince Arthur is right, your highness. We can warn Camelot and they _will __be_ ready." He stressed. "Meanwhile, we should try and surprise them from the back."

Seeing the opportunity, Arthur pressed further, addressing the officer. "Do we have homing pigeons in the campground?"

"Of course." The elder general replied promptly, slightly surprised that the Prince would ask something so obvious.

The answer pleased the Prince despite of the fact it also meant his father had _evidently_ come well prepared for war… with his intended bride. He quickly dismissed the idea.

"There you have it, father. We can send them back to Camelot immediately with instructions of our plan."

The King finally looked at his son and Arthur finished gravely. "If the reports we are receiving are anything to go by, Sire, a surprise attack may very well be our only chance…"

At last the monarch nodded, reluctantly accepting the idea; and not wanting to loose momentum, the Prince moved back to the charts on the table.

"We will also need to slow them down as much as possible. And hopefully to split their front line." Arthur said. "We are going to need trenches, deep enough to light fire in them. We must call on every village and every town. Since we cannot defend all posts, the fire could at least make their advance more difficult."

He then lifted his eyes from the maps with a disappointed grimace. "However, we'll need better information on the terrain than the one on these charts…"

* * *

After his brief conversation with the Prince, Merlin had remained in the tent, not sure of what to do… or even think. His anxiety to warn Arthur had been such that he hadn't—till now—even stopped to think of the amazing experience of… flying nonetheless, courtesy of the winged beast.

The vision of the massive Saxon forces was imprinted in his eyes and he couldn't shake off the feeling of doom.

"_It will take more than the Camelot army to defeat them…"_

Leave it to Kilgharrah to speak in riddles. As usual, he hadn't gotten anything else from the dragon.

His current powers were surely not enough and the dragon had hinted that as well. Not to mention than even if he were able to help, Uther would eventually execute him too.

What else could be done?

Immersed in his thoughts, he did not notice Lancelot had walked in.

"Merlin, I have been looking for you."

The warlock smiled mildly and shrugged his shoulder. "Arthur ordered me to stay put."

The knight, however, was unconvinced.

"You can stop pretending, my friend. I saw you leaving the camp… Where have you gone?"

Merlin sighed. Lancelot knew of his powers and was a trustworthy friend. Given the circumstances, the wizard figured he might as well let it all out… Dragon and dragon-lord saga included. And he did.

Though profoundly shaken from the disclosure, the pragmatic warrior did not hang on the details. There would be time to ask more questions later… But in order to secure a '_later_', they needed to figure out a way to defeat the barbarians.

"And Arthur does not want to call on Leoness?"

"No. He said, and with some reason I should add, that the Princess' army has never been on a war of this magnitude. According to him, that could be a liability and he doesn't want to worry about Gwynn."

Lancelot nodded, then asked again. "What about your powers? Can't you do something?"

"I don't know. I am not _that_ powerful."

There was a hint of mischievousness in the dark eyes of the knight, and a shadow of a smile momentarily graced his handsome features.

"You don't know it until you try…"

Merlin smiled as well.

"As much as I appreciate your confidence my friend, Morgause is with them. I fear she might be more powerful than me now." He made a face and his tone became uncharacteristically sarcastic. "I haven't had much time to perfect my gift, you know, hiding it from everyone at all?"

Lancelot understood the situation, but was not willing to give up just yet. A second later, another option popped up in his mind.

"And the dragon? Couldn't he help?"

"No. Kilgharrah will not help Uther. He told me as much and asked me not to command him."

* * *

From their hiding place, Gwynn took a long look at the Camelot encampment in the distance. How to approach it?

The Princess was rapidly discovering that her half-cooked plan had still lots of holes. She wasn't worried about her safety, knowing full well that if her identity was revealed, she would be returned to Leoness safe and sound.

But that would mean _not_ to fulfill what she had set out to do; and that was an option she was not ready to entertain at the moment.

It was dusk and a moonless night would be soon upon them. Perhaps then, protected by the darkness, they could approach…

"I think it will be safer if I go to the camp."

Once again, Wledyr decisive tone almost made Gwynn jump, but recovering quickly she disregarded the idea. "No, this is my quest and I…"

"Finnabair…" The healer interrupted with conciliatory cadence. "If they discover me, nothing will happen. If they see _you_, however, you'll be sent back to Leoness and everything would have been in vane."

She did have a point there… Between amazed and amused, the Princess asked almost unconsciously.

"Wledyr you… surprise me…"

The blonde lady simply smiled in return and prepared to move again. "Wait for us in the clearing we passed not long ago. I'll find you back there."

The Princess saw her friend disappearing in the darkness and went back to her horse. She had purposely left Ceara in the stables, since the absence of her mare would have been too big of a clue. She patted the nose of the stallion and walked into the forest.

Once in the clearing, she grabbed a wooden log and lit it, all the while smiling at the memory of Arthur's expression when she had done the same in Isca Silurum.

"_I __am __indeed __a __walking __kindling.__" _She thought amused.

But most importantly, if King Nudd and her foremothers were to grant her wish, her powers could become even handier this time around.

* * *

Looking at the worrisome expression of his son, something akin regret flashed briefly in the King's eyes. The maps at hand were certainly _not_ useful at the moment. He had taken everything he would have needed to attack Leoness; however the enemy was coming the other way. But the Prince's gaze was fixed on the worthless charts and noted nothing.

In that moment, a soldier entered the tent with two knights from Leoness in tow, one of which was carrying a roll of charts. Upon a signal from the King, one of the knights spoke addressing Arthur directly.

"My lord, Sir Alric has sent these charts of the northern territories along with a letter addressed to you."

The Prince's face softened a little with a glimpse of a smile. At least some good news! Leave to Sir Alric to be on top of their needs. Apparently, the faith the old commander had professed back in the Citadel was still intact.

He opened the letter and read avidly.

"_Your __highness,_

_I have sent my emissaries with all the information we have available at the moment. Our scouts have spotted the Saxons as well, just briefly after you so kindly sent word of their arrival. _

_They are still in the northern planes, but advancing very rapidly. We have been informed that they are more than tens of thousands, my lord, which gives them a strength never seen in these lands._

_Our scouts also reported that the enemy proceeds in waves. The back of the columns moves to the front while the rest of the lines are given little if no time to rest. At this moment, we are not sure whether this could be in our advantage, or if they are using sorcery to that end. _

_I have four thousand cavalrymen able and ready, and while I appreciate your concern for the safety of Leoness and its people, under these new developments we will need to unite forces to fight the barbarians. _

_Therefore my lord, I request you reconsider you initial generous offer, and I hereby place Leoness' cavalry at your disposition, so a joined defense plan can be coordinated. _

_Lastly, I want to reassure your highness that the Citadel and its inhabitants will still remain extremely well guarded."_

Arthur smiled at the last sentence. It was obvious Sir Alric knew of his concern for the Princess' well being. As long as that was the case, and Lescaut remained near Gwynn at all times, she would be safe.

He folded the letter thanking the emissaries with a short nod and then requested.

"I need to speak to my father alone, gentlemen. I bid you a moment for that."

Silently, all men emptied the tent. The Prince did not waste anytime and spoke before the King could ask anything.

"Sir Alric has put Leoness' army at our disposal. His scouts on the northern planes had spotted the Saxon forces already, and he sent us all the intelligence he has at the moment." The Prince smiled a crooked, sarcastic grin. "Including _usable_ charts."

* * *

Merlin followed Wledyr in silence, still wondering how she had managed to find him and why.

The sealed note from the Princess only said that she needed to speak with him alone. But even though he had asked, the blond healer had not uttered another word. He figured that growing up with Ennyny might have taught a thing or two about avoiding answering questions; nevertheless, and with everything that was going on, he would have liked at least to get some clue.

They marched for a while until a small clearing inside the nearby forest and he was quite surprised when his eyes did not find the Leoness' royal, but rather another boy sitting on a fallen trunk by the fire.

Only when he was just a couple of yards away, he recognized the bright smile of the Princess underneath the peasant's hat.

"Merlin! Thanks to the heavens we found you!" Gwynn welcomed standing up.

"Princess! How…"

But she shook her head silencing him. "We do not have much time, Merlin. I was childish and stubborn before and I just pray it's not too late."

Still confused, the warlock absurdly thought his master would certainly agree with the 'childish and stubborn' assessment. However, what would that have to do with everything that was happening?

As if reading his thoughts, the Princess continued with her outburst. "I should have heeded your advice and go through this when we had the chance…" She looked momentarily down while the warlock began to understand the reasons behind it all. "But I was afraid… still am; except that now…"

"You want to go through the rite…" He whispered almost in awe.

How would that have happened? He had failed at convincing her, he was sure of that. Yet here she was—after what he surmised had been a very reckless trip with only Wledyr as a companion—searching for him to reclaim her past…

Something powerful filled his chest. Maybe there _was_ hope after all…

"_It will take more than the Camelot army to defeat them…"_

Maybe this was what Kilgharrah had meant with that enigmatic sentence!

Finnabair was, after all, the last Morrigan's descent.

Her voice pulled him out of his reflections. "Would you help me, please?"

Looking into those hopeful green eyes, the warlock understood how the Prince had fallen so hard for her. It was impossible to remain immune to that gaze. It was a window into one of the most beautiful souls he had ever found. He swallowed a chuckle thinking how Arthur had tried to resist to no avail.

It was, indeed, overpowering. He smiled and nodded. "Of course, your highness. Tell me what I need to do…"

Apparently, however, that might have not been the expected answer because Gwynn frowned.

"Tell you? I thought you knew…" She mumbled in confusion.

Panic struck the warlock. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. That's why he had been trying to speak with her and learn about it. But if she didn't know, then they were pretty much doomed.

Intuitively understanding his turmoil, the Princess spoke with deep distress. "But you do not…"

Merlin shook his head looking for something to say when Wledyr beat him to it.

"Grandmother gave me this roll. Perhaps it would help?"

Princess and wizard turned to the blonde at once. She was holding an old parchment with a ghost of a smile dancing in her rosy lips.

"Grandmother? Did she tell you what this was for?"

Wledyr's smile widened while handing the roll to Merlin, though she continued to address Gwynn. "No. She only said I should keep it safe, and when the time was right, I would know what to do with it."

Merlin and Gwynn looked at each other again, both thinking alone the same lines: leave it to Ennyny to have everything thought out.

Not bothering to disguise his excitement, the wizard opened the roll with nervous fingers, only to immediately sigh in disenchantment: he couldn't understand the inscriptions.

Nevertheless, he figured that the seer must have foreseen that too, and turning the parchment towards the Princess, he asked between hopeful and amused.

"Please, Princess, tell me that this _is_ Goidelic…"

The soft laugh of the Princess echoed in the silent forest. "Indeed it is…"

She read silently for a moment under the attentive gazes of the other two. Sometimes her brow would frown; some others a smile would draw her lips up. When she was done, she looked at her companions with bright eyes.

"The rite is supposed to be performed during Samain, the Celtic celebration when the veil between the worlds of the death and the living is at its thinnest. Only then my foremothers can cross it to grant the new descendant her powers. In lieu of that, the veil has to be open by magic." She looked at Merlin directly. "We have to summon my mother's spirit Merlin and I need you to help me with that…"

The warlock felt his heart coming to his throat, everything becoming instantly clear. It stood to reason that the rite had to be performed _only_ by the Princess' mother and foremothers. That was the essence of the matrilineal lineage and the part of the puzzle he had not being able to solve.

The seer had undoubtedly known about Samain and—most importantly—the _alternative_ to Samain. Yet without powerful magic, the Great Divide could not be open. And that was where he came in…

He was never meant to actually _perform _the rite; he just needed to use his powers to _enable_ it!

Ennyny had indeed thought of everything…

* * *

In the solitude of his tent, King Uther was pondering his course of action. He had asked to be left alone to plan the next attack, but truth was he also wanted to regain his unsuitably shaken disposition.

Too much had happened during the last couple of hours and he felt he needed to regroup.

It seemed that Arthur had been ahead of him on every angle, and between proud and perhaps even a bit jealous, the King had to admit his son had demonstrated a composure and temperance he had not.

Going back to the previous discussion, the Prince had been right on target suggesting an attack from the back of the Saxons flanks.

Moreover, his son had been also right about Leoness. Sir Alric's opportune aid, not only with the cavalry but also with information, had been nothing short of providential. Obviously the Leoness' general was a far cry from the 'deranged' person the late Steward had portrayed. Arthur's accusation sounded clear in his mind.

_"Ruther was able to use your obsession in his favor and manipulate you to get what he wanted."_

Not being one to dwell on remorse or regret, Uther immediately pushed away those thoughts. What was done; was done. Instead, he wondered whether an allegiance with Leoness might still be on the table…

The abrupt news of the invasion had prevented the issue to be further discussed between them, and Uther could not fathom whether Arthur would be willing to go through the marriage treaty or not.

That was, of course, assuming they could defeat the Saxons, which in the monarch's view was not a question of _if_, but rather of _when_.

Camelot was a mighty military power he had built from the ground up. He had taken these lands from the Saxons once already; and he would do it again. There was no doubt in his mind about it.

Lost in his reflections, he didn't notice a cloaked figure materializing in the tent.

"Hello Uther."

The female voice froze his blood. He turned vividly and his startled eyes followed the hood that was being removed, to finally clash against Morgause's wicked smile.

"YOU! How dare you show your face again!" And then yelled. "GUARDS!"

But she did not seem frightened at all and stood her ground.

A split second later, two guards entered the tent. They looked at the monarch expectantly as if he had been the only one in the tent, and in that moment Uther understood: they couldn't see Morgause. Her next words confirmed his suspicions.

"You don't think me so foolish to actually come here in the flesh, do you?" She chuckled mockingly. "They can't see me Uther, only those who I choose can do so. A little trick I picked somewhere…" And then turned serious again. "Now tell them to leave or I'll convince them you are mad."

With no other options to choose from, the King did as she said. The sorceress spoke again, calmer now.

"That is better, _father_."

The unexpected treatment caught him by surprise almost as much as the blistering hate with which it was pronounced, and the King moved closer with menacing strides. "I am NOT your father."

"My, my… What an hypocrite!" She retorted derisively. "You know it's true. You seduced my mother so she would help you in an allegiance with her sister, and you discarded her afterwards to marry Ygraine!"

A deep rancor drenched her next statement. "And then, not fully contented with that, you further tricked Nimhue into giving you a male heir…"

Morgause closed the distance to stand inches from the King's distorted face, and finished with a spiteful whisper. "But not even that prevented you for ordering their execution during the Great Purge."

"You lie…"

"I do not have to lie. I am the living proof of what I am saying is true. Vivienne and Nimhue escaped. But my mother died of a broken heart… because of _you_…" She spat. "Nimhue took me with her. She taught me magic… and my past."

"Whatever Nimhue told you were only lies… I did not betray your mother! Vivienne seduced me even though she knew I loved Ygraine!"

Her cynical laugh stopped him.

"You are so full of lies, Uther Pendragon, you cannot discern what's true anymore." Then her voice sizzled with loathing once more. "And be very careful of what you say about my mother, lest you want dear Arthur to learn about your past allegiances…"

The mention of the Prince hit a nerve on the King. The last time the sorceress had spoken with his heir, father and son ended up in a brutal sword fight that concluded—miraculously—without injuries, and thanks to the fortunate intervention of the Prince's manservant. The memory alone was sufficient to bring his blood to an instant boil and he shot back.

"You already tried to turn my son against me and you failed! Arthur would never take your word over mine!"

His tirade did not seem to impress her, however, and she looked at him sardonically.

"I see… Care to put that to a test one more time?"

That did it and Uther shut up. As sure as he wanted to be about his son, the eyes of the Prince during the previous argument had told him Arthur was holding something against him.

Whether it was his intention of attacking Leoness or something else, the King did not know; and truth was, did not want to know…

Only one thing he was sure of, and it was the Prince's unyielding sense of honor. Arthur would never betray his oath to his _King_. Then again, the primal fear of completely loosing his son's respect was too strong to ignore.

Furthering his aggravation, Morgause seemed to know that as well and nodded satisfied.

"That's better." She taunted. "Now, among other things, Nimhue told me how you defeated Vortigern's son, Paschent, when you conquered the realm. She also mentioned how you killed his ally Hengest in cold blood."

Her tone then became treacherously calm. "I happen to also know that the Saxons mourned the unworthy death of their leader more than the defeat itself. So you see… I am marching on Camelot with Hengest's son. Now Octha too wants revenge."

This time the King turned away so she wouldn't see the extent of the turmoil this latest disclosure had caused him. But the sorceress did not relent.

"Tell me, _father_." She scathingly underlined the treatment. "Did you really think the past would never catch up with you?"

Uther turned on his heels and their eyes met for her final words. "The reckoning is near Uther Pendragon... You will pay all the hurt you've caused with what you love the most."

Whether she meant Arthur or Camelot, it remained unsaid. And although the threat was loud and clear, the royal pride did not yield an inch.

"Is this what you came to warn me about?" He asked with derision.

"Not entirely. I came to give you an option: you can abdicate your throne to me and prevent the blood bath. I _am_ the eldest Pendragon after all… I am only claiming what is rightfully mine…"

Amidst the gravity of the entire exchange, the King's sardonic laugh resounded in the tent.

"You are deluding yourself if you think the Saxons will let you have the kingdom."

Morgause laughed mirthlessly as well, mocking him.

"I care not for Camelot, you arrogant fool! Ochta can keep it for all I care. I only want you and your male Pendragon dynasty erased from these lands. And I _will_ get that one way or another."

In that precise moment, Arthur came into the tent and stopped dead on his track at the sight of Morgause. Apparently, Merlin had not been mistaken and here she was… His hand went instantly to his sword, but a gesture from his father halted him.

"Hello Arthur." She mocked. "_Father _is right. No need to draw your sword. I beat you once, I can do it again."

She had been waiting for the Prince to take the bait, but this time she was wrong. Arthur squared his shoulders, hand still on the hilt of his sword, and answered coldly, almost tiredly.

"I doubt it."

Unsure of whether the young Pendragon had heard her correctly, and taken aback by the lack of reaction from the Prince, she repeated the taunt.

"Aren't you surprised to see me, _brother_?"

Arthur had indeed heard her right the first time; and surely, the matter would have caught his attention in another circumstance; but not now. For all he knew, Morgause might be lying again. And even if she was not, he was already well past his father's former affairs.

Everything he needed—or wanted—to know about his past he had learned from Ennyny; and the Prince was sure that neither his father nor Morgause would tell the entire truth even if their lives depended on that.

"Hardly." He simply answered.

The sorceress narrowed her eyes. There was something very different about Arthur… This person in front of her was not the honorable and gullible youngster she had met years ago. The one she had beaten only because he was chivalrous enough to let her pick back her sword… The one who had followed his promise to the letter despite the fact he was risking his life and the entire kingdom in doing so.

This was an imposingly mighty warrior she had certainly not been expecting.

Then she felt the unmistakable pull of the projection enchantment fading and her eyes landed on the sword. Maybe it was not Arthur… maybe it was _that_ sword. She could feel the power of the blade humming a few feet from her, pushing her apparition away.

This had not been in her plans either…

Would the Prince know the powers of that sword? Somehow she doubted it. A Pendragon would never use anything magical. Perhaps it was just coincidence...

"That's a beautiful sword Prince."

Her words surprised him, but it took only a split second for Arthur to realize that—being a sorceress—she could have perceived the sway of the blade. Whatever the case, this was dangerous territory, as his father had no idea he was carrying such legendary weapon.

Donning the blank expression he had perfected over years of royal aloofness, he deflected the topic.

"Indeed." He moved a step forward, threatening. "What do you want?"

Mistakenly interpreting his reaction, Morgause smiled inwardly. That was what she had thought; the young Prince was clueless. However, the closeness of the sword was threatening to end the spell and she backed up a bit, lifting her hands.

"No need to spill blood just now. I came here offering peace."

Arthur arched an eyebrow at her seemingly casual retreat. Maybe the sword had more uses than he had first thought… His answer came quick and frosty.

"And somehow, I find that hard to believe."

Morgause turned nonchalantly towards the King. "Ask our father."

Uther had remained silent at the brief exchange between the other two. He had no idea whether his affair with Vivienne had resulted in an offspring or not. Nimhue had never said anything. Then again, the priestess might have had her own reasons not to disclose the existence of such child.

Would Nimhue's revenge have gone as far as to convince Morgause of a non-existent heritage? He probably should not put it pass the evil enchantress.

Or would Morgause really be his daughter? If so, would his kingdom have more than one heir? Would it be destroyed as so many others by the fight between siblings?

Not if he had anything to say about it. Pushing all uncertainties and memories back, the King roared furiously.

"I will not abdicate my kingdom to a sorceress!"

The spell was fading quickly and Morgause knew it. Yet, she could still feel the tension in the room and a deep sentiment of cruel satisfaction inundated her. The royals would never admit it to her, but she was sure she had successfully driven another profound wedged between the Pendragons.

A wicked, evil grin distorted her otherwise beautiful features.

"So be it."

Then her eyes shone gold and she disappeared into thin air.

The tent became ominously silent and it took a moment for the two royals to reconnect with reality. Urged by the need to control the damage the unwelcomed visit might have caused in his already-strained relationship with his son, Uther spoke first.

"Arthur…"

But the Prince was once again ahead and immediately understood his father's intention to discuss what happened. In no mood to tackle such thorny subject just yet, he squared his shoulders and dismissed the issue with a somber statement.

"We have an invasion to tend to, Sire, and now the Saxons will know our forces are split."

* * *

Somewhere in the northern planes, Morgause came back from her trance gasping for air. She sat up in the furry cot and took several deep breaths to steady her racing heart.

Inside the rustic tent, a large blonde Saxon looked at her with curiosity.

"Was the visit to your father pleasant?" He mocked her.

The sorceress shot him a spiteful glance while standing up to get some water. "As well as it can be expected, considering he is Uther Pendragon."

Ochta laughed disgustingly and kept sharpening his sword. "I see… Is he ready to give you the throne or I will have to kill him?"

She did not answer. Her thoughts were still with the sword Arthur had with him. The blade was magical, no doubt about it. But she could not fathom how or why was in the Prince's hands.

And about the Prince… that was yet another obstacle she had not foreseen. Something had changed in the young Pendragon and _not_ to her advantage for sure.

Immerse in her speculations, she did not notice the barbarian had stopped what he was doing until a hand on her hair pulled her head back, and a cold blade prickled her neck.

"When I ask a question, woman, you answer me like everyone else!"

His smell nauseated her more than his threat, and she hated Uther Pendragon even more. It was because of him she had to reach out to these barbarians… Amidst her growing loathing, she reminded herself that everything would soon be over and her revenge would be complete. It was simply a matter of putting up with this brute for a little longer.

"I was only thinking that I have interesting news to share with you."

Ochta did not move. He didn't trust women. Women were devious creatures that, if allowed, could drive a man crazy. Smart women were even worst. They were not even worth for breeding. They could get into a man's head with their beauty and their wiles and slave him until none of his rightful male pride remained.

And this beautiful sorceress was the epitome of everything he hated in women. He knew she despised him. She might have thought she disguised her repugnance well, but he was no idiot. She was not trustworthy at all; and even though their temporary alliance had been useful so far, she should know better than to challenge him.

"Remind me again, witch. Why is it that I haven't killed you yet?"

Morgause smiled knowing full well her lack of fear was the worst insult for the Saxon. But she didn't care. This beast had no idea of her true powers. She could destroy him with a snap of her fingers. And she would do just that when the time came. For now, she would continue to play along.

"Because if you do so, half of your troops will eat the other half in a matter of hours, Ochta. Thanks to my spell, they have not been eating enough so you could advance faster… But you know how your men get when food is scarce and they are hungry." She chortled lowly. "And they are hungry, believe me. They just don't know it yet."

The Saxon backed away, sneering. "That's right. You are still useful. So, what news do you have for me?"

She turned and gave him a wickedly triumphant smile. "Uther is not in Camelot. He is somewhere else in a large encampment."

Ochta arched his eyebrows. That was something he had not been expecting… And it was actually great news. Camelot's citadel was virtually impenetrable; but if the King was not there, then his ultimate goal had just become much, much easier…

"Do you know where?"

"No, but it won't be difficult to spot by your scouts. Send many, to all directions. The camp should be large enough to be visible from the distance."

Almost savoring his victory, the Saxon nodded not even realizing he was actually taking orders… and from a woman! When he was lifting the flap to leave the tent, Morgause spoke again.

"Can I ask for something in return for this little present I brought you my lord?"

Ochta smiled showing yellow rotten teeth. Now she was acting coyly. He liked that much better even though he knew it was just pretense. His grey eyes narrowed in warning.

"It would depend on what, witch."

Her smile widened. "A sword. Arthur Pendragon has a sword I want. Could you get it for me Ochta?"

The Saxon laughed. Yes, he could do that.

"Certainly, my lady. Do you want his hand attached to it too?"

* * *

The instructions had been exceedingly simple, considering what was about to take place: Merlin had to open the Great Divide between worlds and summon Queen Binne. Of course, the parchment did not specify how.

Feeling the pressure of what was riding on his shoulders, the poor wizard was beyond embarrassed when his first two attempts failed miserably. It was then that the Princess gently grabbed his hand and spoke softly.

"My friend, do not burden yourself. If Ennyny thinks you can do it, I am positive you can."

Amazingly, those words were all Merlin needed. He breathed in and spoke from the bottom of his soul.

"_Rhannwch Fawr ištrinami ir nechať karalienė Binne dod pas nás. Rydym Tave Motina."_

This time an eerie calm suddenly flooded the forest and time stood still. Even the fire became motionless.

Within the glow of the immobile flames grew an unworldly breeze and a soft voice could be heard amidst the quietness of the night.

"Hello my daughter. I have longed for this moment for many years my child."

Merlin looked at the beautiful lady who appeared amidst the luminous halo. She did not look at all like the Princess. Her hair was blonde and her eyes a clear blue.

Somewhere in the wizard's amazed mind, the notion that physical similarities were only shared by actual Morrigan's descendants connected with Gaius' reference to the gifts being passed _every __other_ generation…

Then the Queen smiled and Merlin could clearly see the Princess' magical grin reflected on the ghostly face. They were mother and daughter undoubtedly.

"Mother…" Gwynn choked between tears. "I have missed you so…"

"My dear girl… I am so sorry for everything you have had to endure…" The Queen walked closer extending her hands. "But I have always been with you. You know that."

Gwynn rushed to her mother's arms and for a moment the two royals shared a tight embrace.

Merlin felt intruding and looked for Wledyr who was watching the scene from farther away with teary eyes. He began to move back when the Queen spoke again.

"Thank you Emrys for making this possible."

The warlock tried a timid smile and a nod, but the Queen walked towards him.

"I know of you, young warlock." She said smiling while Merlin kissed the extended hand. "Your time has finally come and you will make us all proud."

She then turned to Wledyr. "My dear Wledyr, thank you too for taking care of my daughter. Your mother is very proud of you dear."

The curly blond let out a sob of emotion when the Queen hugged her as well. Then the royal came back to Gwynn's side.

"We do not have much time." She addressed first her daughter and then the other two bystanders. "Please make sure we are not interrupted."

Understanding the request, Merlin turned to the forest and his eyes glowed gold.

"_Tyfu __greitai __a __amgáu __mus __nami __rankas.__"_

The bushes surrounding the clearing began to rapidly grow until they formed a thick wall around the opening. The Queen smiled satisfied.

"Now, my beloved daughter, it is time for you to become who you really are."

Too dazed to say anything, Gwynn simply grabbed her mother's hands and let her elder guide her across the fire. A funnel of light enveloped the two royals when the Queen began to chant in an unfamiliar language, which Merlin assumed to be Goidelic.

Soon the light became so intense he had to cover his eyes, and grabbing hold of Wledyr's hand, he moved back against the bushy wall.

He wasn't sure of what really happened or for how long did it happen. The light was downright blinding and the initial soft breeze quickly morphed into a powerful twister.

At some point he tried to open his eyes and saw—or thought he saw—a gathering of many women, many of whom bore a strong resemblance with the Princess. They were forming a circle enveloped in a strange golden fire. But it was only an instant and he had to protect his eyes again, so he wasn't sure.

Then, abruptly as the supernatural tempest started, it was gone. When the warlock thought it safe to open his eyes again, the Princess was embracing her mother and the Queen softly disappeared in thin air.

And it was all over.

* * *

Far away, in Caerfyrddin, Ennyny woke up with a start and sat up on her bed, breathing unevenly. Her night companion—a young girl, daughter of one of the servants—also woke up startled.

"Is everything all right Mistress?"

The concern of the girl faded quickly when the blind seer smiled placidly and went back to her pillow, sighing in contentment.

"Yes, my dear. Now everything is all right. Go back to sleep." Ennyny said, preparing to do the same. But before the slumber claimed her again, her thoughts went to the Princess.

_Welcome at last, Finnabair of the Morrigan's. You bring the light of hope in these dark times._

* * *

Dawn was upon the war council, and isolated from the ongoing discussions between the King and the generals, Arthur was studying the newly arrived charts with deep attention. The visit of Morgause could not have come at a worst time. He had been positive they would have been able to surprise the Saxons, but now he was no longer sure.

Admittedly, he did not know how much the 'apparition' of Morgause could have learned from her surroundings. He had asked Merlin—after looking for his manservant around the camp for quite a while, he should add—but the warlock had no idea such thing like projections could actually be done… Which in turn had the Prince wondering if his friend actually _knew_ magic or was just an accidental joke of the Gods.

Be that as it may, it was better to believe the worst and assume that by then, the Saxons were aware of the situation. And in such case, a new plan would have to be laid out.

Arthur checked the terrain once again and his eyes went back to a nearby valley he had noticed earlier, not far from Mount Badon. Something in his guts was telling him the location would be a good place to separate the Saxon's forces.

There were a couple of villages that would have to be evacuated; but before that, those countrymen could provide extra hands to build the trenches. Camelot's troops could wait behind the western forest, and Leoness' cavalry could do the same from the east.

At last, the somber royal frown distended and something resembling a smirk curve his lips sideways. Yes… that might actually work.

Merlin had been observing the Prince in silence, shifting his eyes back and forth from the maps to the royal, not daring to say a word. Minutes earlier he had the first real opportunity to… impress his friend with his knowledge of magic… and he had blown it.

How was he supposed to know that Morgause—or any being for that matter—could transport her image? How could that be done? Gaius' expertise in paranormal matters would have certainly come handy, and the young wizard somberly admitted he had yet a lot to learn.

He also realized his natural gift could backfire if he was not careful. Sometimes natural talent could convince the gifted that further training and education was irrelevant when, in truth, it was the pillar of any skill. He promised himself that once Arthur was King, he would return to Bryn Myrddin to complete his education…

"What is it Arthur?"

The voice of the King brought Merlin out of his contemplations and only then he realized the expression in the Prince's face had changed for the better.

"I believe we may still have a chance." Arthur said solemnly. "Here it is what I have in mind."

* * *

Lescaut could not shake off the feeling that something was not right. He had been in the Princess' quarters twice during the previous evening, and in both occasions she had been resting, apparently suffering from a mild indisposition.

It was already morning and he had called again, with the same result. Though in this case, his mistress was apparently still sleeping, which was also rather unusual.

Adding to it was the fact that, for some reason, the demeanor of his beloved had been… strange. He really did not want to think ill of Helene, yet couldn't help but to wonder if the beautiful lady was being truthful with him.

Halting in the middle of the corridor, he felt ashamed of his last line of thoughts. Surely Helene would not deceive him! There was not a single dishonest bone in her adorable frame!

He shook his head trying to dismiss his worries and focused in his current task. His father had ordered him to assist the royal physicians with the preparations for the imminent war.

While speaking with the officials supervising the production of bandages, medical aids and ointments, Lescaut circulated through the frantic assembly of linens, vials of vinegar, and sachets of myrrh and yarrow.

As faith would have it, it was there and almost in passing, that the young Captain learned no physician had been called to attend the Princess _at __all_. He felt his heart coming to his throat and cursing between teeth he almost ran to the royal quarters.

Helene received him as always with a smile that—he now realized—in vain tried to hide a very anxious disposition. Before she could even say anything, his words cut the air like a steel blade.

"Where is the Princess?"

The lady in waiting gasped, immediately recognizing those fiery dark eyes. The clever Captain had finally figured everything out.

She swallowed through a parched throat while a shiver ran up her spine. Should she continue with the cover up? What good would that do now anyway?

Confusion, anxiety and remorse were impeding Helene to speak or move, and an impatient Lescaut waked in towards the royal chamber with angry strides.

At last, she managed to articulate a weak. "She is not here my lord…"

The captain stopped and turned on his heels. The raw fear for the safety of his mistress mixed up painfully with the notion that this beautiful lady in front of him—and to whom he had given his heart—had been playing him like an idiot. His face was distorted in indignation, yet he made an effort to sound civil.

"Where is she?" There was an underlying threat in his voice that Helene could not ignore and she averted his eyes.

"I don't know… She left with Wledyr."

The ambiguity of the answer left ample room for interpretation, and Lescaut charged again, his eyes narrowing.

"But _when_ did she leave Helene?"

Her eyes welled up with tears, convinced that Lescaut would never forgive her for what she had done. She had not slept at all consumed by concern for Gwynn and anxiety for deceiving her wonderful knight.

However, and no matter how agonizing the situation was, she did not regret having yielded to the Princess' request. It had not only been a royal demand; most importantly, it had been the plea of her best friend.

Her silence was all the answer Lescaut needed and he finally exploded.

"You lied to me!"

Meekly, Helene tried to make him understand…

"She asked me to cover for her! What would you have me do Lescaut!"

But the knight was too incensed to hear any excuses.

"To do what's right… Our mission is to protect her even against her wishes! You should know better Helene! I expected far more from you!"

How could he say that? He, of all people, should know how difficult was to go against the Princess' decisions. Not only that, but Gwynn had demonstrated a resilience and a courage far beyond what the knight could imagine. Only Helene knew _exactly _what the Princess had been through with her family's death and her evil uncle.

If Lescaut could not understand that—and by the looks of it, he did not—then so be it.

"She is a grown woman, Lescaut, perhaps you should consider she knows what she's doing!"

The certainty in her voice made the Captain back down for a moment. But one thought at the imminent Saxon invasion, and his infuriation returned tenfold.

"I will do that when she starts _acting_ like a grown woman and not like a reckless, stubborn child." He punctuated. "We are in the wake of a massive war, Helene, and she is out there, with that healer as her only companion! How could she be so irresponsible?"

The discussion was rapidly becoming heated, as the lady in waiting felt the irrepressible need to defend her friend.

"Has it ever occurred to you that she might have a good reason for leaving? That there may be things that you do not know about Gwynn?"

He frowned and shut up momentarily, a plethora of ideas swirling through his mind… Unfortunately, none was neither plausible nor worth assuming such risk.

"What _things_?" There was plenty incredulity in his voice.

Helene bit her lip and looked down. In her haste to make him understand, she had almost disclosed the Princess' secret, which she had sworn to keep against everything. She sighed in defeat.

"I cannot say…"

Lescaut walked towards her, his anger rising again.

"What do you mean?"

"I gave her my word, Lescaut."

Cursing unintelligible the Captain felt the raw need to scream in frustration. Ever since they were children, this… _pact_ between these two females had driven him crazy time and time again.

Would this be another one of their stupid womanly games? Could they be so clueless of the dangers they were all facing?

He grabbed Helene's arms so she would look at him. "You must tell me, Helene."

The tears she had been trying to hold back finally won the battle and spilled over when she lifted her eyes shaking her head.

"I am sorry…" She choked.

Her sadness and tears were impossible to withstand and added another layer of conflict to the Captain's inner turmoil. He let go of her and sighed.

No matter how much he had hoped for a future with Helene, it was suddenly clear that their duties to the Princess would likely always put them in the antipodes. It was no use…

"Me too." He walked tensely to the door and finished somberly. "I am sorry you do not trust me enough… "

Helene felt her heart breaking. How could he accuse her of that? Why couldn't he understand? She closed the distance that separated them and desperately grabbed his arm.

"Lescaut… Please… I just…"

But the Captain had already done his never-failing detached mask, and gently unclenching her fingers, looked at her from the height of his wounded pride.

"That is enough, my lady. I shall go look for our Princess…"

* * *

Back in the camp, Arthur was waiting for his knights to alert them of the decision. He had asked Merlin to call the meeting to his tent and hoped that for once, his peculiar servant would act promptly. Time was not on their side.

The attack plan he had laid out moments ago had been discussed and unanimously accepted by the war council. His father had been pleased… maybe even proud.

But the Prince knew it was a risky plan and even if successful… even if they could indeed defeat the Saxons, the cost in blood and lives of this war would be enormous.

Then he thought of Finnabair and his pulse quickened. The awareness that she was safe and guarded in the Leoness' castle brought some relief to his troubled soul, but not enough to quench his need to know she would be spared of this horror.

Perhaps one day he would see her again…

As things were, however, his fate might be awaiting for him on that valley… Three, maybe four days—the most—from now…

* * *

A/N: The end is near...


	40. Chapter 40: Inferno

Hey! I'm back! And come to think of it: Happy New Year everyone!

Sorry for the long hiatus. Too complicated to explain.

This chapter was not supposed to exist (at least it was not in the general plot I had in my mind at the beginning), but I really don't like loose ends.

Somehow the story and the characters took me to the war with the Saxons, and so I had to address it.

But it was quite interesting to write, though not very easy. It has many scenes, because I felt the events needed to be presented from the perspectives of all involved parties.

You'll see what I mean, and I hope the results please you.

Thanks for the messages, reviews and support, as usual. You know who you are :-)

PS: I am quite confident that there is only one more chapter to go, and I'll be done. Then again, this story wrote itself so far, so who knows ;)

* * *

_**Chapter 40: Inferno**_

Helene froze from head to toe at the abrupt indifference of the knight and was immediately reminded that despite the feelings Lescaut had professed not long ago, this was a proud warrior who would put his oath and mission before anything and anyone.

_Including her…_

At the thought, a sudden burst of her own pride wiped out any traces of pain from her eyes. If this was going to be the end of their short-lived romance, then so be it, but she too had a vow to uphold. Why should _hers _be less important than his after all?

Yet before Lescaut could actually exit the royal quarters, the clear voice of the Princess stopped him dead cold.

"You do not need to look for me, Lescaut.."

Both guard and lady in waiting turned in surprise to see the Princess and Wledyr—both still dressed as peasant boys—walking from the main chambers, apparently having used the back entrances.

The Captain reacted first, deeply affronted. "Your highness! I asked you very clearly not to do anything reckless. You've given me your word my lady!"

Gwynn knew he was right. Nevertheless, she also knew it was time for her dear and uptight guard to learn she was not a little girl anymore. With a regal voice she seldom—if ever at all—used with Lescaut, she spoke.

"I remember my words very well, Lescaut. And you should do well to recall I promised not to do anything _unnecessarily reckless._" She remarked. "I had a very good reason for what I did. The risk I took was, therefore, necessary."

Lescaut bit his tongue and lowered his eyes momentarily. He did remember their interchange. Furthermore, he also remembered wondering what exactly she might have meant with those words.

Well, now he had his answer… Evidently, his mistress had played him like a boy and purposely put herself in danger while at it. He could feel the rage boiling in his veins and felt like screaming in frustration. His face, as usual, showed nothing.

With a calmer demeanor, mindful that affronted or not he was addressing his Princess, he tried a more rational approach.

"My apologies, your highness. You did say that. However, we just received news from our own scouts about the shear size of the invasion…" He breathed in to keep his cool. "This is certainly not a time to go gallivanting the countryside without an armed escort."

The Princess smiled softly, knowing full well that the irritation Lescaut was surely feeling—though not disclosing—was born out of pure zeal for her well being.

Perhaps some day she would be able to fully explain herself, and even apologize to her dear friend for having worrying him so much… Hopefully they would both live to see that day…

"Point taken, Lescaut. However, perhaps I am more capable of protecting myself than most might think." And with those cryptic words, she shifted topics while moving back to her chambers. "I must speak with you and your father at once. Please meet me in the royal office in an hour. I shall now change."

Lescaut swallowed once again his indignation and nodded. It was very difficult—if not impossible—to go against the Princess' stubbornness.

He turned to leave and took one last look at Helene who had remained silent. Her chin was up, and the grey eyes were cold and distant.

She was obviously angry with him, and he could not blame her. He had been so worried about Gwynn that might have taken the entire discussion a tad far.

For a moment, he pondered whether he should at least express regret for his words… Then again, his wounded pride overrode the sentiment. After all, she had lied to him too and hadn't apologized for it.

When everything was said and done, these events had only served to remind them that their obligations with the Leoness' heir were first.

And in the eve of a major war, perhaps this estrangement was all for the best...

* * *

Back in the Saxons lines, Ochta received the news from his scouts: the Camelot encampment was indeed at the border with Leoness. That meant that the witch had been right and Uther was weaker in the open.

He called his deputy commanders and sent a third of his army towards the border. The rest, under his command, would maintain their course. He would trap the King between the two forces and then march onto Camelot as the new ruler.

Once Uther and his son were dead, Camelot would easily surrender.

Morgause saw his satisfied sneer and felt compelled to pointedly comment. "You look very pleased with yourself Ochta, but the battle hasn't been won yet. Shouldn't you be a bit more concerned?"

The giant barbarian laughed disgustingly. "Why, witch… Are you worried?"

"Not at all." She acidly answered. "But I know better than counting the chickens before all the eggs have hatched my lord."

"Well, these eggs have hatched already for what I can see, Morgause. Your information has indeed been correct and Uther is still in the Camelot camp. Killing him will be very easy in the open."

The sorceress shrieked unwillingly. As mighty as their army was, these brutes were certainly not the brightest. The least she needed now was for Ochta to become too comfortable and make stupid mistakes.

"Aren't you forgetting that the Camelot Knights are a force to be reckon with Ochta? You do not have a cavalry and your infantry…"

The Saxon moved towards her with a speed that contradicted his massive size and his hand closed on Morgause's neck. "I don't need a woman to tell me how to fight my battles witch!" He seethed. "You keep forgetting your place and my patience is running thin."

Far from being afraid, the sorceress found herself unable to contain her ire a moment longer. Her dark eyes shone gold and she whispered something Ochta did not understand.

A second later, however, the hand grabbing her throat burnt as if it had been on fire and with a grunt and a curse the barbarian let her go.

"So is mine, Saxon." She spat.

Ochta quickly pulled out his sword, ready to strike. He was certainly not used to be disobeyed, much less challenged... Least of all by a woman, witch or not!

Yet another short spell made him immediately drop his weapon; the hilt also scorching him like hot iron. Before he could reach for it again, she spoke calmly.

"This is not the moment to settle our differences Ochta. Whether we like it or not, we still need each other."

As boorish as the Saxon was, he knew she was right... and powerful. Thus, he reluctantly nodded in agreement while moving to retrieve his sword.

Making sure it was cold before sheathing it back in place, he pushed away the pleasuring thoughts of how he would dispatch this witch when the time came. For now, he gruffly explained.

"If the Camelot infantry cannot disrupt the flanks of my men, their famed cavalry will be useless. And my men _will not_ break the line." He stressed. "_You_ will make sure of that."

A wicked smile graced Morgause's face. "Of course."

She moved to leave but turned around on last time, smiling suggestively. "And you won't forget my sword."

"Aye" Ochta sneered arrogantly. "I won't forget your sword."

* * *

The King could not disguise his pride at the commanding actions of his son. Arthur had taken subtle charge of the affairs—without confrontation and without arrogance—and secretly, the monarch was thankful for it.

Although Uther dreaded to admit it, the eventful last days had taken their toll on him, and in a tacit agreement, his son had risen to the occasion.

The nagging feeling the King had had at one moment due to their argument about Leoness and then the irruption of Morgause had virtually disappeared. As things were, Uther had convinced himself that Arthur had not believe a word the sorceress had said and that the disagreement about Leoness was a thing of the past.

After all, he had reasoned, Arthur was _his_ blood; _his_ son and heir. Naturally, he would always side with his father and King unconditionally…

That was possibly as far from the truth as it could get.

Arthur had not forgotten the discussion, nor had he entirely dismissed what Morgause had said about his father.

In the Prince's mind, only revenge could have moved the sorceress to her dangerous alliance with the Saxons. He was certain the barbarians had no plans of sharing the spoils of an eventual victory with her, and would not hesitate to kill her as soon as her usability expired.

Furthermore, he was also convinced that Morgause knew that too; as evil as she could be, she had certainly proven to be quite astute.

Which left him only with the inescapable conclusion that her only interest was to make his father pay for past sins.

Whether those sins spawned from the Great Purge and the persecution of magic; or went as far as abandoning his daughter—any daughter—to her fate, it was irrelevant now. Moreover, it was between the sorceress and the King.

The one thing he was sure of was that whatever aid Morgause was giving the Saxons, it would only increase the odds against his beloved Camelot.

* * *

At the royal office of Leoness' castle, Sir Alric eyed with veiled curiosity the obvious sour mood that Lescaut could not completely hide from him. However, also aware that his son would only speak when he wanted, the commander opted for remaining quiet as well.

Would have been perhaps another one of the Princess' tantrums?

_Most likely._

If pressed, he was willing to bet his sword that her highness had called the meeting to complain about Lescaut confining her to her quarters. It would not be the first time.

The senior official smiled inwardly. He adored his Princess and his son, and couldn't help but to enjoy all the times these two bumped heads. It had been a recurring occurrence since he had appointed his only heir to the precious task of guarding the last Leoness' royal.

He had never forgiven himself for not being at his King's side during the ambush. King Alwyn had insisted he stayed in the citadel because of a minor injury he had suffered days before.

In hindsight, he would have probably died that day too, like everyone else in the company… His only consolation had been that he had survived to ensure the safety of the Princess.

Only the Gods knew what would have been of her life at the hands of her evil uncle, and perhaps that was the reason things had occurred the way they did… Somehow, his life and his oath to the Leoness' crown had never lost purpose.

He shook his head imperceptibly dismissing the dark thoughts just in time to see the Princess walking briskly in the room. Helene and Wledyr were two steps behind her.

Something was amiss… He could feel it in his bones.

The Princess' demeanor was… different and the presence of the two female escorts confounded him further. Gwynn had never brought her lady companions to discuss her businesses.

Without further ado, the royal spoke solemnly.

"Sir Alric, Lescaut: whatever is going to take place in this room shall remain our secret until I decide otherwise. I trust you gentlemen will honor my request."

Both soldiers nodded, serious, each wondering what would it be she was about to say. As in cue, Helene and Wledyr locked the two entrances to the room to ensure they would not be disturbed.

Then, the unforeseen happened... The Princess stood in front of the fading flames of the fireplace and with a slight movement of her hand, the dying embers exploded in a conflagration that was threatening to escape the hearth.

Except that it did not…

It burned potently and up straight towards the chimney; not a single spark out of place.

With the same nonchalant deportment, she then turned towards the burnt out candles and lit them all…

Whether she had moved her hand or only her eyes, neither Alric nor Lescaut could tell, too perplexed at the bizarre experience.

Gwynn kept looking at them, serious, waiting for the warriors to absorb what she had just done. Once she considered the spectacle had achieved its mission, and with the same casual movements, she finally put off all the fires in the room.

Neither father nor son uttered a word and waited—dumbfounded—for her explanation.

"I am the last descendant of the Morrigan. Like all my foremothers, I have been granted special powers over the elements. Mine is fire." She simply said.

Lescaut swallowed dried and Alric barely nodded, still in shock by the revelation. Although the senior officer had been aware of Queen Binne's 'alleged' legacy, the subject had always been handled with a lot of secrecy and so he had never had any confirmation.

_Now, he did…_

The Princess continued. "My legacy shall remain a secret, gentlemen. The Morrigan's heritage is too precious to be publicized. Only very few people, throughout the ages, had first-hand knowledge of whom we were. Rumors shall remain rumors, never to be confirmed. That's my command."

The two men squared their shoulders and nodded; still unable to say anything but both deeply moved to have been welcomed into the select group guarding the Morrigan's secret.

Gwynn smiled satisfied. "Wledyr and Helene are here because they have known my secret for many years…"

At that point, Lescaut shot a glance to Helene, everything becoming painfully clear for the young captain. The icy glare of her grey eyes told him what he feared: he should have trusted Helene, rather than accused her of not trusting him. He had been obtuse and had failed her, and she would probably never forgive him for that.

If his mistress hadn't been in the room, he probably would have let his shoulders fall in dejection. Too late for regrets now…

The next words of the Princess brought him back to the situation being discussed.

"I know you both will have reservations about me riding with our troops."

She paused and smiled when father and son frowned their brows in a too-much-alike fashion.

"However." She continued, "you both must admit that my powers will be extremely useful for this invasion. The Morrigan's heiress after whom I am named once protected our harbors from barbarians using her powers. I will protect Leoness and my people using mine, gentlemen. There won't be any discussion on that matter."

* * *

Winter was in the air, seemingly impatient for Autumn to fade away. The heavy clouds had been covering the sky for several days now, bringing the cold north wind with them and stealing luminosity from the fewer hours of light each day carried.

Arthur looked up trying to guess the time. He had left the main camp with a small group of knights about two days earlier to prepare for the attack. He had instructed that—once the rest of the army was ready to move—the camp at the Leoness' border would be left almost intact, as a decoy or even as bait.

If Sir Alric held his end of the deal, the Leoness' army would be posted in a privileged position from where they could either quickly backtrack to the empty camp, or move forward towards the Camelot's forces, depending on the direction of the Saxon attack.

At last, the Prince could pinpoint the sun location under the dense overcast, and figured his father and the Camelot army were already on the move.

If things went as planned—and so far there wasn't a reason to suspect otherwise—they were expected to reach the valley at the end of the day.

_The valley where they would make their stand…_

Meanwhile, Merlin was waiting patiently for Arthur to accept the dried meat he was offering. Eventually, his arm grew tired of holding up the food, and with a resigned sigh the warlock gave up. The Prince was not going to eat…

_Yet again… _

He looked at his charge trying to get a reading on the Prince's mood to no avail. Arthur's face was beyond inscrutable and the warlock reckoned it had been another revealing experience to see his friend in full commander-in-chief mode. The once and future King of Albion had been displaying a decisiveness and a drive that had left him speechless.

In a matter of hours, barely two days after the news had reached the Camelot camp, villages had been evacuated, peasants had been recruited and traps had been devised.

The amazing dexterity of Prince while formulating the plans had resulted in a lot of ground being covered by the defending forces without leaving too many weak points.

And in those places where the terrain was too open to conceal the men, shallow trenches had been being excavated—by soldiers and peasants alike—and filled with dried hay and tar, ready to be set on fire.

"_We must break their lines at any cost or we won't stand a chance." _The Prince had alerted, and everyone knew what that meant.

Arthur had been supervising everything. From instructing the volunteers peasants with slings, to walking over the trenches, positioning the archers, and pretty much everything that was being done at a frantic pace.

Up to that point, Merlin had tried in vain to convince his master of the need to eat and rest. Just like then, the Prince hadn't even bothered to acknowledge the advice from his manservant and, aside for the battle plans, the warlock could not fathom what was going to his friend's head.

Admittedly—and despite the current lack of response—Merlin had always admired the inner ability of his master to focus on the task at hand and block everything else out. Arthur could be the most annoying person when idle, but once his head was onto something, the royal was the most committed being Merlin had ever met.

Still, one thing was nagging the young wizard's conscience: he hadn't told Arthur of his meeting with Gwynn and he was partial about what to do about it.

The Princess had left without any specific recommendations on that matter, apparently also in a hurry to return to her place. Thus, and even though he would not be breaking any promises by disclosing the events, the warlock had a hard time trying to figure out if he should or should not do so.

Arthur would be livid if he knew the Princess had ventured outside the palace alone. And possibly even more if he knew Merlin had done nothing but to yield to her wishes.

The more the wizard thought about it, the more he convinced himself that what his friend did not know would not hurt him, or—as in this case—worry him. So he kept his mouth shut.

And then the young wizard realized something else: after word about the upcoming invasion had been sent to Leoness, Arthur had not mentioned the Princess' name again, not even once…

* * *

The Leoness battalions moved out of the Citadel with their Princess in the lead front; a strange emotion could be felt among the troops: a mixture of tension and yet, hope…

It was said that these lands hadn't seen a war of this magnitude ever since the times of the famed "Leonessa", after whom the invaders had dubbed the realm.

Therefore it was perceived as a good omen that another warrior lady—their own Princess Finnabair—was leading them. And so, the presence of the royal filled everyone with a sense of purpose that even Sir Alric could not have suspected before.

At the meeting in the royal office, the old captain had no other option but to obey to his Princess' command; and he had done that quite reluctantly at the beginning.

Nevertheless, in view of the upbeat spirit of the troops, he had to admit that the idea—however dangerous—was obviously not a misguided one.

Ashraf was also riding with them, and so Gwynn marched flanked by Lescaut and her trainer. If anything, Sir Alric had wanted to make sure that, to the extent possible, the Princess would be well guarded at all times. He smiled sardonically remembering the words of the royal lady when he had voiced his request.

"_If we are not successful at driving the barbarians out of our lands, Sir Alric, I am afraid that no amount of personal guards will be able to secure me."_

And she had been right. If anything, this was reckoning time.

After less than two days of forced marching, they passed the empty Camelot camp and continued on towards the forest on the west bank of the stream where they would wait for the Saxons.

* * *

Night had already closed over the makeshift camp when Arthur received news that the Leoness forces were in position.

Everything was in place. Now they'd have to wait… And that was the worst part.

Time seemed to slow down all of the sudden, and the hours passed unhurried and tedious. It was going to be a very long night…

Men and horses were restless, and the soundless tension was so thick it could have been cut with a blade.

Even the nocturne creatures had apparently gone silent.

It was the calm before the storm…

"Here you are!" Merlin sounded obfuscated when he finally found the Prince sitting in the outskirts of the encampment.

Arthur did not look up and kept relentlessly observing the dark hills from where the Saxons would appear soon.

"Have you eaten anything?" During the last hours, the warlock had become increasingly worried about the detached demeanor of his master. He knew all Arthur's senses were focused on the upcoming battle, but still… "It won't do you any good to go into battle with an empty stomach and weakened!"

At last Arthur's gaze move towards his servant, between annoyed and amused. "Do you realize that you sound like a nagging wife?"

The abrupt change in the tone of the Prince caught Merlin by surprise. His eyebrows shot up first and then frowned while seating next to his charge.

"And how would you know that?"

The Prince smiled mockingly "I just figured..."

"Well, nagging wife or not, I know for a fact you haven't been eating or resting, and that's not really…"

"I was resting, Merlin, until you came here." The answer came drenched in sarcasm, which, for once, actually pleased the warlock.

Amidst the craziness of the situation, it felt oddly good for some things to remain the same. He opted for shutting up.

Long minutes passed while the two friends sat in silence looking at the darkened landscape. It was Arthur who spoke next.

"Why did you stay?"

All right. It seemed to Merlin that he had misunderstood the truce and he was not welcome there. He made a move to leave mumbling an apology.

"I'm sorry, Sire. I will leave you be…"

But Arthur turned, grave, before the warlock could actually stand up.

"I don't mean now. I meant… always…"

The absent expression on his servant's face exasperated the Prince a bit, and with an annoyed sigh he turned his eyes forward again and explained.

"You have magic… Your neck was at risk every day in Camelot." He shook his head. "You gambled your life everyday you stayed."

Finally Merlin understood the question, although he had no answer ready for it. Arthur repeated it.

"Why did you do it?"

Merlin shrugged his shoulders. "Good question." He mused jokingly. "I many times have wondered the same thing…"

But the stern look from the royal told him Arthur was serious. The time for fabricating politically correct answers was over anyways. No need to deviate from the truth.

"I stayed because of you…" The Prince frowned and the warlock rushed to elaborate. "_You_ are the last hope of these lands Arthur, and my… mission has always been to ensure your safety, so you can fulfill your destiny."

At that, Arthur lifted a curious eyebrow in mockingly skepticism. "Are you implying you have been… protecting me?"

Merlin smiled at the pun but paid no heed to it. "You have no idea how many times I've saved your royal behind."

The Prince swallowed a chuckle. In hindsight, and with everything he'd discovered during these strange times, he could not say for certain that statement was actually a joke. He looked down and shook his head.

"What… You don't believe me?"

Before the royal could open his mouth to answer, the conversation was cut short by the arrival of one of the scouts.

"Sire! They have reached the valley! They are not stopping sire. They have not eaten or slept! They will be here before dawn!"

* * *

The stomping from the advancing Saxons was heard in the camp long before sunrise, becoming increasingly louder as the first light timidly tried to break the darkness.

Hell was coming...

Already mounted, Arthur held the signal until he had a clear sight of the advancing front. As he had feared, it was massive, compact, and filled the entire expanse of the valley.

His jaw clenched and his horse shied, uneasy by the tension of his rider. The Prince controlled his mount and raised his hand.

When he lowered it, archers appeared from underneath random bushes across the field discharging a rain of arrows over the Saxon lines. At the same time, the fire on the trenches was lit, running in parallel routes and effectively dividing the advancing barbarian line in several segments.

The strategy seemed to have worked, and using the momentary disruption, the Camelot cavalry rode to war.

* * *

The other Saxon battalion—the one Ochta had sent to the border with Leoness—had reached the empty Camelot camp much earlier, still protected by the night. They encircled the encampment and, at the signal from their leader, attacked in what they assumed was a successful ambush.

However, after a couple of moments of burning vacant tents and slicing the air, they soon discovered it was only a decoy…. Or worst, bait.

Afraid of a trap, the Saxon leader called up his forces to retreat, but it was too late…

The Leoness knights had them surrounded, and even though the barbarians outnumbered them two to one, the element of surprise and the advantage of the horses soon tilt the scale in favor of the defending army.

From the border of the forest, and mounted on Ceara, Gwynn could feel her insides churning as the first morning lights began to bathe the scene. Sir Alric had pleaded her to remain outside the conflagration, and true to her word, she had stayed.

Ashraf was at her side; silent as usual.

Though the Princess had not been sure of what to expect, she was quickly discovering that whatever it was said about the _horrors _of the war, reality would always surpass what could be put into words.

Even from the distance, the brutal noises and the screams kept systematically knocking the air out of her lungs.

The worst was the smell… A distinctive odor she could not identify, but was sure would never forget. Somewhere in her mind, something told her it must have been the stink of death…

Her tension climbed and her anxiety to go into battle and use her powers quickly began to stir her mount… She needed to_ do_ something… _Anything_ but just sit idle watching her men bleed and die on the field.

Irrationally, she even felt jealous of Lescaut, who had initially been ordered by Sir Alric to stay put with her, but for some reason had been able to convince his father otherwise and was also fighting.

But she had promised her commander not to do anything unless was extremely necessary… And so far, the Leoness' troops were winning the day.

"You would do them dishonor if you do not let them fulfill their mission."

The cryptic words of her long time trainer abruptly brought her back from her tumultuous reflections. Frowning in confusion, she turned to him.

"What do you mean?"

The dark eyes of her mentor did not move from the field. "They are fighting for you. That is what they live for. Your mission is to accompany them; not to fight along them…"

Astonished, Gwynn did not stop to think of what he had said, but in the fact that he had been reading her thoughts.

"How did you know…?"

A subtle sideways grin further wrinkled the face of the old warrior. "Even your horse knows what you are thinking…"

She looked down ashamed at the obvious, but was nevertheless compelled to ask.

"But you have been training me all these years…"

"Yes, but not for battle. I have trained you so you can defend yourself. I trained a ruler, not a soldier."

Leave it to Ashraf to summarize everything in the minimum indispensable amount of words… She knew he was right, yet she still failed to comprehend his first statement.

"Why shouldn't I be on the field with them?" She paused, and then said something she'd regret a second later. "Arthur fights with his men…"

As soon as those words were out, Gwynn blushed profusely at how childish and capricious they had sounded. She had not meant them that way, but her unruly mouth once again ran away with her.

This time the old man looked at her directly on the eyes. "Arthur is a man. He has been trained for war his whole life." And when he saw her brow frowning, he continued more severely. "What your men expect of you is different and you should honor that. If you go there, you will shame them."

The frown deepened. "How can I shame them if I only want to fight alongside them to _help_ them!"

"A battlefield is no place for women, least of all rulers. You and your descendants are their only hope for the future." The strong foreign accent of Ashraf seemed to add power to his words. "They are bleeding and dying because they know that as long as you live, their families will be protected and cared for. Would you rob them of that honor?"

A thunderbolt of understanding coursed through Gwynn shaking her to her core. For the first time, the Princess felt the full weight of being a ruler: her life did not belong to her, but to all of those who depended on her… She had no right to carelessly put it in danger.

Like a revelation, Lescaut's fury all the times she had done something reckless seemed irreversibly justified.

She even understood some of Arthur's actions and words... What she had interpreted as hurt male pride had been nothing more than vehemence… not only for her well being but also for what she represented...

Suddenly, she felt ashamed of her selfishness; moreover, of her obvious immaturity. She had indeed a lot to learn…

"Besides," Ashraf spoke again, stopping her compunction. "This battle is already won."

She lifted her eyes and saw Alric and two other generals riding towards her. The commander had a relieved expression on his face.

"We have succeeded here, your highness. We should move forward to aid Camelot."

* * *

From a privileged high position towards the back of the valley, Ochta cursed repeatedly at the sight. He had not been expecting this…

Moving his horse towards where Morgause was watching, he spat venomously. "You! You told me they were in the camp!"

"They _were_ in the camp!" She hissed, equally infuriated. "Your own scouts confirmed it!"

Amidst his burst of anger, the warring instinct of the Saxon immediately connected the dots, and between teeth he grinded. "Then they must have left it up as a bait… They knew we would attack there and they changed their plans!"

He looked at the sorceress even more dangerously. "I wonder what have you told your dear father, witch…"

Morgause scoffed derisively. "Don't be foolish! I have more interest in Uther's death than you do… Why would I alert him."

The eyes of Octha narrowed. "I wonder the same thing…"

Knowing that everything was hanging from a very thin thread, the sorceress gathered her wits first and quickly measured her options. If she did not placate the Saxon, she would have to kill him, and though the idea pleased her quite much, that would mean that Camelot would prevail.

And that was a gamble she was not ready to take just yet.

"Tell me what you want…" She offered, more coolly.

"I want you to make sure my men hold their lines, as I told you." He sizzled, obviously not calmed at all. "The fire has broken up the front and the cavalry is overpowering them. _That_ was our deal."

She nodded and thought for a second. Looking at the cloudy sky she found her answer and smirked maliciously.

"I need to get closer to the field."

* * *

King Uther had been observing the battle from the outskirt of the valley, pleased to no end to see the unfruitful feeble attempt of the Saxons to regroup, only to be split again as more trenches were lit.

The fight had kept going ferociously, and although the enemy severely outnumbered Camelot, the knights were easily holding their ground.

Arthur's plan had been working impeccably so far, and by virtue of dividing the enemy line, both his knights and infantry were pushing the Saxons back.

"So, is this everything you have Ochta?" He mused arrogantly. "I will crush you like I did with your father, you arrogant Saxon…"

And then, as in an ill-omened punishment, it began to rain…

At first it was only a sprinkle, but enough to help the Saxons to put off some of the flames on the back trenches. Soon, however, it grew into a powerful downpour and little by little all the pits began to die out and the barbarians to pour into the field like water from a breach of a dam.

The King saw in horror as the enemy rapidly moved to rebuild their mighty front.

All traces of overconfident complacency were quickly wiped out of the monarch's face.

_This could not be happening! He would not loose his kingdom! _

Without thinking twice, Uther kicked his horse and rode into battle.

* * *

Somewhere the battlefield, Merlin felt the familiar pang of magic all the way to his core when the rain began to pour. And he knew it; _that _was not winter rain.

_Morgause… _

Twice he tried to counteract the effect of the sorceress' magic but couldn't. Whatever spell Morgause was using was extremely powerful and he did not have much time for trial and error.

With nothing else to choose from, his last chance might be to call Kilgharrah…

The young wizard doubted for a second. He dreaded to go against his word; he had understood the dragon's reluctance to help Uther and had promised not to force him. But it was not only the King who was in danger… Arthur and the future of Albion were at stake at the moment…

Just as he had made his decision, something hit him hard on the head and he fell to the ground.

* * *

From the top of a distant hill, the advanced Leoness' company saw black smoke rising from the valley and instinctively the riders slowed down, perplexed at the strange sight.

"That's odd…" Alric voiced what everyone else was thinking. "It is as if the fires are being extinguished by water… but the clouds are high and it does not seem to be raining…"

The Princess' nerves prickled. She could feel the fires dying, but that was not what troubled her…

It was not _water_ what was fighting the flames… nor it was the natural battle between both elements… Someone was using magic!

Something cold crept up through her spine… If her instincts were correct, then Camelot would certainly be doomed.

In a fist of panic, Gwynn kicked Ceara and jumped into a frantic race, all her being urging her mount to hurry.

_She had to reach the valley on time… She had to reach Arthur…_

* * *

Between blows Arthur looked at the rain with contempt… They had been prevailing before, but he knew well that if the Saxons regrouped, their fate would be sealed…

There were just too many of them.

Slicing at his opponents with fury, he couldn't help but to think that perhaps the sins of his father had doomed Camelot after all…

And then it happened… Although the rain kept pouring down strongly, the fires suddenly began to burn again on their own, even more powerfully than before…

Caught in the middle of the trenches, the barbarians started to burn alive, dropping their positions and running away.

The Prince stopped for a split second, surprised. That was not possible… That was like…

And it dawned on him.

_Finnabair…_

He didn't know whether she was in the battlefield or not, and prayed she wasn't; nevertheless, she was certainly aiding them and with renewed force, the fantastic Caldabolg continued to slash enemies left and right.

_Now they had a fighting chance and they would fight!_

* * *

"What the hell is happening now!" Ochta roared when the trenches rekindled and his men started to disperse again.

Morgause did not respond. She too was surprised her spell had stopped working. Not wanting to waste time wondering, she tried once more with all her might.

_Nothing…_

Exhausted by the effort, the sorceress gasped for air and tried to regain her breath. By then, the Saxon was already at her side, sword drawn. Would he have decided to break their allegiance right there?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the Leoness' battle horns, which could be heard loud and clear from the distance. Help was coming and most likely not for the Saxons…

Momentarily distracted by the new developments, the giant changed his mind and looked at her with hateful derision. "You are not as useful as I thought, witch. But I will deal with you later…"

He kicked his horse a rode ahead. He had spotted the Camelot King and decided he _would _have his vengeance…

* * *

Arthur too had seen his father and cursing between teeth, he tried to move towards the King when his blood froze in his veins.

Like in a slow-motion nightmare, the Prince watched in horror how Octha launched onto his father, effectively striking the King and toppling him out of the mount.

Worry blinded Arthur further when he saw his father open and unarmed, struggling to stand up and obviously disoriented by the blow.

The Saxon had already turned his horse and was charging again from the back… With no time to position himself for combat, and in a desperate movement, the Prince threw his body from his mount to cover the King just in time to intercept the barbarian sword.

"Arthur! No!"

Merlin's scream drowned in the infernal noises of the battle, and fighting the pain from his throbbing head the warlock ran frantically towards where his master had fallen.

Two knights tried unsuccessfully to overpower Ochta. Hopelessly, the wizard saw them die defending their King while the massive Saxon charged again to finish his job.

Gathering his breath from his failing strength, Merlin uttered a spell and knocked the barbarian off his horse. The giant man fell heavily on the ground, unconscious…

With Ochta out, and seemingly still confused and badly injured, the King dropped to his knees over the wounded body of his son.

"Arthur… My son… No…"

The Prince tried to breathe but couldn't… Somehow the air didn't reach his lungs and he realized the wound was on his chest and the air was rapidly escaping him. He saw his father's eyes pooled with tears, and for some reason they reminded him of the father of his childhood…

"I am sorry, son… I am so sorry…"

Arthur wanted to say something, but his voice wouldn't obey and the light was rapidly diming. A gurgle with metal flavor flooded his mouth and with his last bit of consciousness he knew he was tasting blood. Then everything went black.

"Nooooooo…." King Uther's anguished scream could almost be heard over the blare of the fight.

At last Merlin reached them… but a forceful, invisible punch made him fly backwards and land heavily on a rock, knocking him out again.

Morgause walked towards the King smiling wickedly. So, someone _had _been tampering with her rainy spell after all… This little wizard-to-be almost cost her revenge…

_Almost…_

"Well, well, well, father…" She mocked. "Did you know that your son's own servant had magic? Who would have thought?"

The King did not hear her. Between his blood draining out of his body, and his lifeless son in his arms, Uther was completely out of it.

"I told you this was going to happen…"

The King lifted empty eyes towards the sorceress, his face teary. "Spare him… I beg of you, spare Arthur…"

The words hit Morgause where it hurt the most. Her father would not even acknowledge what she was saying… All he thought about, all he cared about was his precious heir…

"Are you asking me to use magic to save him, Uther?"

The sarcasm of the question was lost to the desperate King. He could feel the life abandoning his son's body and nothing else mattered.

"Whatever it takes… Whatever you want… Just save him, please…"

Bitter bile flooded the sorceress mouth. She had wanted Uther to beg… but not like this... He was _not_ pleading for his kingdom… he was pleading for _his son_. She was his daughter too… and he would not even acknowledge that.

"No." She answered spitefully. "I will not save him. You and him and Camelot will fall. This is your reckoning Uther Pendragon, and you'll have to face it."

The King's face fell towards the Prince once again… In his delirious mind frame, he thought he was looking at his boy… the beautiful boy he had loved so much.

Blood from both royals was rapidly pooling around them, and trying to warm his son with fading strength, Uther felt his own breath coming shallow and painful. His vision blurred and he forced his focus to little avail.

And he knew it. He was dying too…

In that moment, Merlin groaned nearby and Morgause turned towards the sound. Apparently, that little weasel of the servant was harder to kill than she had thought.

Very well then, if magic were not enough for him, she would kill him old fashion.

She lifted the sword she was carrying to finish the deed when a ball of fire burnt her hands and forced her to drop the weapon.

The sorceress turned enraged at the unexpected interruption and saw a small knight bearing the crest of Leoness facing her.

"You ignorant fool!" she growled. "You'll pay for this!"

Her eyes flashed golden and she extended her hand to destroy the annoying interferer. But to her utter surprise, nothing happened.

"You magic is of not use with me." The knight said with a distinctively feminine voice.

Curiosity and surprise forced Morgause to ask almost involuntarily. "Who are you?"

"I am Arthur's bride. The future queen of Camelot."

Humorlessly, Morgause snickered with disdain. "This is even better than I thought! It seems that the Pendragons got what they deserve: a witch in their midst… Pity they will never know about it…"

Gwynn cut her mockery. "I am _not _a witch, sorceress… I am a descendant of the Morrigan. Blood of King Nud runs in my veins."

The words made Morgause back off, momentarily baffled.

"That's a lie… There are no living descendants of the Morrigan… That line has been broken."

Once again the Princess spoke curtly. "And how would you know…"

Morgause charged again with magic with the same futile results… This time, however, her insolence was answered.

Angrily, Gwynn lifted her hand and a circle of fire surrounded the sorceress.

"I could burn you alive very easily, witch." The royal tone sizzled with profound wrath. "And _I _don't need a stake."

The mighty blaze closed in Morgause, and she panicked. Her powers were useless, and for the first time in her life, the sorceress felt the cold grip of fear ripping her insides.

Then the fire disappeared and the Princess' voice returned calmer. "But unlike you, I find no pleasure in taking lives."

Finnabair walked a few steps to face Morgause eye to eye before ordering. "Go away and never return to these lands." And then she warned with a coldness that froze the sorceress' core. "If I ever heard of you threatening Camelot or Arthur again, I will _not_ be this merciful…"

Shaken as never before, Morgause retreated and ran away.

"You should have killed her..."

Gwynn turned startled at Merlin's voice.

"Merlin! You are all right!"

Her momentary relief immediately faded away when she saw the warlock's teary eyes; and something in Merlin's desperate expression brought her heart to her throat.

"Where is Arthur?"

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the cliffhanger. It'll be resolved soon. Would you review the chapter please? :)


	41. Chapter 41: The Rise of a King

Surprise!  
I know… My timeline is quite erratic lately. But I have a good excuse.

The final chapter was becoming extremely (even by my own standards) long, and so I had to split it because the scenes kept pouring.

You see, Arthur and Finnabair have been apart for the last two chapters, due to the external circumstances, and deserved some time together.

It's been a long journey for the young royals; nevertheless, good things are always worth waiting for. The price we pay for them make them all the more wonderful.

To my dear readers/reviewers friends (you know who you are), I thank you once again for your words of encouragement, which have helped me keep going even when life got too busy. I believe this chapter is for you :-)

Lastly, I noticed many readers have either marked my story as favorite and/or the story alert (you may not believe it, but I just discovered a place when I can see that in the site… Not very bright of me, I admit, but well...). Could I ask you to drop a word and let me know what you think too? Thanks.

All right, now for sure: this is the before-last chapter of the One True Queen.

Enjoy the show… Or more exactly, the reading.

* * *

_**Chapter 41: The rise of a King**_

Feeling her desperation mount with every one of her heartbeats, Gwynn kept watching through blurred eyes the warlock's futile efforts to heal the Prince. Whatever Merlin was trying was evidently not working…

The battle around them was winding down. With the sorceress and Ochta gone, the fires burning evenly, and the arrival of the Leoness' cavalry, the Saxons were leaderless, running away and dispersing.

Yet both Princess and wizard were completely oblivious to their surroundings. Arthur was quickly fading and it was obvious that Merlin's magic could stop that from happening.

"I can't…" Merlin choked. "My magic is not enough… I just don't…"

Even if he hadn't said it out loud, his frantic eyes had already told Gwynn as much and she swallowed a sob…

This _could not_ be happening. Arthur simply _could not_ die.

Amidst the deafening bumping of her heart, something deep within the Princess adamantly rejected the idea of losing him and, almost unconsciously, the words came out.

"We need Wledyr…"

A small spark of hope shone in Merlin's otherwise despairing eyes.

_Of course!_ _If anyone could do anything at the moment, it would certainly be the mystic healer!_

But the short-lived surge of confidence quickly subsided, however, when the warlock realized that it would all depend on how soon they could get Wledyr to tend the Prince. His friend did not have much longer.

"Where is she?" He asked uneasy, actually fearing the answer.

"I don't know…" Gwynn sniffled, drying her eyes with her sleeve. "She rode with us but I left the front when I saw the fires dying and I knew something was wrong… I hope they…"

She didn't want to say it, but it suddenly dawned on her that she had no idea of whether _any_ of her dear friends were still alive.

Merlin understood the situation and decided he would nonetheless take the chance. _Anything_ but staying there and watch his friend pass away in front of his eyes.

He was about to stand up when a spine-chilling scream made them both turn immediately around.

* * *

Ochta came back from his unconsciousness and looked around, momentarily confused. Then, the survival instincts of the hardened fighter kicked in and he stood up, ready for whatever was coming his way.

The field was quickly being deserted and his troops were running away like rabbits from a pack of wolves. He cursed between teeth and looked for a weapon. Even if he had to retreat too, it would not do to be unarmed.

Not far from where he stood, he saw two figures kneeling next to the body of the Prince. Nearby the group, also laid the lifeless body of Uther. An evil sneer crawled up his face.

_One Pendragon gone… The other would soon follow the same fate. _

His eagerness for a weapon multiplied tenfold, and looking impatiently around something shiny caught his attention. It was a sword and it lay near the spot where the young Pendragon had fallen. It gleamed like no other blade he'd ever seen and he guessed it had to be the mysterious sword of the Prince that Morgause had demanded more than once.

Since the sorceress was nowhere to be seen, he assumed she had deserted him—or was already dead, which pleased him the same—and decided he would keep the weapon for himself.

Besides, it was somehow prophetical to kill the last Pendragon with his own famed sword… Not that he cared about the means, of course, only the outcome.

Stealthy, he approached the two bystanders and inconspicuously grabbed the hilt of the magnificent blade.

When he realized his mistake, it was too late.

* * *

Gwynn and Merlin looked astonished at the giant, menacing figure that appeared next to them sword in hand… and with his arm ablaze.

By the time they realized who that figure was, Ochta had already released the sword and was desperately trying to extinguish the fire, screaming in agony.

With his face distorted in pain and horror, the giant Saxon dropped to the ground and rolling over his burning arm, finally got rid of the flames.

He rapidly stood up and ran away, his most basic reflexes in high gear. He would regroup his men and attack later… For now, he just needed to outlive the slaughter.

After a brief instant of mute surprise, Merlin looked at the Princess.

"That was you?"

Gwynn shook her head, puzzled, and still trying to process what had happened.

"No. I thought it was you…" And then it hit her. "It was the sword!"

"The sword?"

She nodded, moving towards the abandoned blade. "Arthur's sword… The inscription on the altar said: _He, who deserves me, will pull me free and unite the tribes. He who is undeserving, will burn with my fire_…"

Merlin frowned when he noticed her intentions. "Should _we_ take it then?"

But the Princess paid not heed to the warning tone of his question and grabbed the hilt with confidence. "The fire won't hurt me…"

Quickly returning to Arthur's side, she placed the sword next to him.

"Hurry Merlin, go and get Wledyr… Make haste, please!"

* * *

The warlock jumped on the first horse he found and ran through the chaos of the ending battle like the devil was on his heels. Soon he saw a group of Leoness' knights and was about to ask when a female voice made him turn around and look down.

"Merlin! Please… where is Gwynn…"

He immediately recognized Helene's eyes underneath a distinctively feminine helmet. "Her highness is all right Helene… But Arthur is badly wounded…" His voice trailed off with deep angst. "He's… dying, my lady. I must find Wledyr."

Understanding his urgency, the petite blonde reacted immediately. "I know where she is!" She extended her hand, and grabbing hold of Merlin's, jumped on the back of his mount.

"That way!" she signaled. "Quick!"

* * *

Several Leoness' officials were already discussing the outcome of the battle and gaging the losses, but Lescaut's attention was somewhere else. His eyes kept scanning the scenery trying to find the Princess or at least her whereabouts.

A temporary camp had been quickly set around a large pit of fire, and the healers were diligently providing first aid to the wounded. He had dragged himself there in hopes to find Gwynn overseeing the makeshift healing facility. However, there was no sign of the Princess and his anxiety kept rising.

It was then when the young captain saw Merlin riding towards the camp with someone else. At first, and between the distance and the dim light, he thought it was his mistress and was about to sigh in relief. But when the small figure took off the helmet, his heart skipped a bit. He would recognize those golden locks anywhere in the world…

His eyes followed Merlin and Helene as they dismounted and hurried to where Wledyr was, and he froze in horror.

_The Princess…_

Numbed by fear, Lescaut approached the trio not caring he was limping again, nor that his shoulder had an open wound, which was bleeding profusely through his chainmail.

"Where is the Princess?"

His voice interrupted the exchange and everyone turned towards him, all equally startled at his battered appearance, which was clearly visible at the light of the campfire. Merlin spoke first.

"She is well, Lescaut. Unharmed and well…" But before the captain could even process the information, the warlock continued. "She is with Arthur now and he is gravely injured. We need Wledyr."

Confused by the news, Lescaut only nodded. That was certainly an outcome he would not have guessed in a thousand trials. The fighting skills of the Camelot heir were praised and sang about throughout all neighboring lands… What could have happened…?

As he was trying to organize his thoughts, his vision began to spin and he almost fell.

At last Helene came out of the momentary stupor in which the sight of the captain's tattered form had put her; and when Lescaut's legs wobbled under him, she moved quickly, lending him support.

"I'll cover here for you Wledyr…" She spoke decisively. "Go now!"

Wledyr and Merlin left in a hurry and Helene turned to Lescaut, who was still fighting the fainting spell. The relief of knowing both his Princess and Helene were alive and well was quickly washing out the adrenaline that had been surging through him and kept him going until then.

Notwithstanding his growing weakness, his pride made him try to move away and stand on his own; but the grasp of the petite blonde was far stronger than he would have thought.

"I am fine…" He mumbled, completely dizzy.

"Of course you are." She simply said and moved him towards the fire. He winced in pain, but did not protest.

Laying him down gently over a blanket of sorts, Helene looked around the camp. Everyone was busy tending several soldiers at once. It would be hours until anyone could see to Lescaut's injuries.

With a help of a dagger and a force most likely born out of her anxiety, she successfully managed to open his chainmail to better examine the slash on his shoulder…

Once it was done, she had to swallow a gag at the sight of the raging wound. Unimpeded by fabric or chainmail, blood kept gushing from it at an alarming speed.

Helene knew she had to act fast and at least stop the bleeding. The knight was nearly unconscious and would not last much longer loosing blood at that rate.

Cleaning it the best she could, the lady pondered the options. The gash was so deep that bandages and ointments alone would not be enough.

There was only one thing left to do and she bit her lower lip trying to gather her wits and overcome the nausea. Then, moving fast and efficiently, she prepared for the brutal treatment.

"I need to cauterize the wound Lescaut. Stay still."

He nodded and bit the wooden stick she gave him. Somewhere in his mind, he was wondering why she wasn't fainting when he felt so inclined to do so. Then a burning pain on his shoulder made him want to scream his lungs out, and he bit furiously the wood until it broke in pieces between his clenched teeth.

Finally, everything went black.

* * *

Back in the Camelot camp, Gwynn walked into the tent where Arthur had been transported by Leon and Lancelot. From the expression on the knights' faces, she knew they shared her same fears: the chances of the Camelot heir were slim to none.

A feverish Arthur was lying on a small cot, bloodied and barely breathing.

Kneeling next to him, she cleaned the line of blood that run out of his mouth with trembling fingers. The weak whizzing coming out of his chest reminded her of the gravity of the situation. The pierced lungs were unable to retain air, which kept escaping… along with the Prince's life.

The thought alone was suffocating and the lump in her throat threatened to rob her breath as well. Yet the Princess controlled her anguish and, inhaling deeply, once again willed him to survive.

_You can't die on me, Arthur… You just can't. Please, don't leave me._

Her silent prayers were interrupted when Wledyr and Merlin hurriedly entered the tent. Gwynn stood up, unable to speak, but her eyes pleaded them for the impossible and, with a short nod, she quietly left.

* * *

Hours went by and dawn was nearing. Gwynn had busied herself tending the rest of the wounded and had not stopped the entire night.

At some point, Sir Leon had approached her with a flask of water. She accepted the offer, thanking him quietly and taking a couple of sips. Her knotty stomach protested and prevented her for drinking more, at the risk of being sick.

Fully aware of her shaken state, Leon risked a soft: "You should rest, my lady."

But she simply smiled, albeit faintly, and handing over the container continued her task. The knight nodded in understanding.

From the might of his height, Leon was struck at how small and frail she seemed; nevertheless, her inner strength was almost tangible, like a living entity. He walked back to his men, gloomily thinking that she would have been a wonderful Queen…

Time seemed to move tediously slow, each minute lasting longer than the previous. Knights and soldiers had kept vigil on the camp, hoping against hope for the health of their Prince.

Anxious eyes from the gathering stole furtive looks at the entrance of the royal tent, waiting for the healer and Arthur's servant to emerge, and turning away in disappointment when moments passed and nothing happened.

Only the Princess and the healers seemed to escape the morbid attraction of the tent's opening. The urgency of the pain and suffering of the fallen soldiers maintained their minds solidly focus on their tasks.

Finally Wledyr and Merlin appeared with cautiously hopeful expressions in their faces. The reception that awaited them was solemn and grave, yet everyone breathed a bit easier.

Everything possible had been done for the Prince, and now it was a matter of waiting for the outcome…

Without too many words, Gwynn asked them to continue aiding the others and walked into the tent alone. No one dared following her.

Exhausted as she was, the Princess' heart felt lighter when she resumed her position on the floor next to the cot. She knew Wledyr powers were par to none, and by the grace of the Gods and magic, Arthur would be all right…

The fever had apparently subsided, the sickening whizzing had stopped, and the Prince looked peaceful and resting. She let out a long, cleansing sigh and tried a small smile of hope.

After a while, the soft and rhythmic breathing of the Prince lulled her into a light slumber. She fought it with all her might, but as hours passed, fatigue won her over and she fell into a profound sleep, her head resting next to his arm.

Later, a soft touch on her hair woke her up with a start.

"I knew you would come…"

Confused at first, it took her a fraction of a second to realize she wasn't dreaming and it had been indeed Arthur's voice.

He was weak and beaten, but very much alive… And when reality settled in, her eyes welled up with tears of bliss.

In her sudden euphoria, Gwynn had to restrain herself from embracing him tightly out of fear of reopening his barely closed wounds, so she contented herself with simply grabbing his hand and squeezing it between hers.

"Arthur…"

The blue eyes of the Prince opened slowly, and still clouded by the fever, narrowed with effort to focus on her.

"The fire…" His voice was parched. "It was you..."

Sniffling, she smiled between tears and nodded. In some remote corner of her mind, something wondered about his reaction and she waited expectantly.

But he relaxed back to the pillow and sighed in contentment. A satisfied smile appeared in his lips when he closed his eyes again.

"I knew that too…"

Gwynn couldn't hold back a sob anymore, which came out in a strange sound mixed up with a giggle of relief. She pressed her lips to his hand and squeezed it harder.

As if on cue, Wledyr appeared with some potion in hand. "Glad to see you awake, your Highness. You need to drink this. It will help the healing process…"

Merlin walked in two steps behind but didn't say anything, relieved beyond words that his friend was evidently recovering.

Both ladies helped Arthur sit up only high enough to drink and Gwynn held the cup to his lips. Thirsty from the fever, the Prince drank avidly the liquid that was being offered. Except that once he swallowed a gulp, the bitter taste of the mixture made him frown in disgust.

"That's awful!" He complained. "Why is it that healing potions can't have at least a decent taste?"

The warlock eventually found his voice. "I see your mood is almost back to normal, Arthur. You are whining as usual." He joked to disguise his emotion.

The Prince made a face while reclining back into the cot. "I am glad you are enjoying this, Merlin. If I weren't so tired, I'll make you taste it too."

Wledyr smiled, frankly amused at the rapid recovery of the Prince's spirit. "I will work on the flavor, Sire. Now you just need to rest."

Surprised once again at the peculiar outspokenness Wledyr had demonstrated during the last past days, the Princess lifted her eyes to the curly blonde. Where was the timid and bashful peasant girl she used to know? In any case, she liked this version much better.

"You'll do that, Wledyr." Arthur yawned in a quite un-princely manner. "And make sure to use Merlin for potion-tasting till you get it right."

By then, his hand—which Gwynn had initially gathered in hers—had turned around and had now trapped her fingers in a solid lock. She tried to free it to no avail.

"You need to rest, Arthur."

He nodded, eyes closed and smiling, but did not relent his hold.

"I should leave you…" She tried one more time.

His eyes opened again, already fogging by the sleeping potion, and his hand pressed her fingers further. "Stay…"

The Princess looked at the other two in mute question. Merlin shrugged his shoulders and Wledyr acquiesced, smiling sympathetically.

"We will need to prepare another tonic for her." The healer whispered when leaving. "She will be very sore tomorrow after sleeping on the floor."

Yet Gwynn heard neither her words nor the warlock's muffled chuckle. Arthur was going to be all right, and that was all that really mattered.

Making the most of the uncomfortable position, she curdled into a ball and rested her head between her knees without letting go of the Prince's hand.

* * *

The next day, the Prince woke up to find Gwynn once again profoundly asleep on the floor, and in what it appeared to be a very awkward position. This time, however, he did not rush to wake her up.

Instead, he laid still for a couple of minutes, feeling his muscles and trying to assess whether everything was—at least in what he could tell—in proper working order.

He was sore, and a bit weak. But well all the same.

While gathering strength to get up, his mind tried to piece together the last couple of hours. He clearly recalled his father being wounded by Ochta. He even remembered the sizzling pain in his chest when he threw himself in front of the Saxon to protect the King.

After that, everything was blurred.

The only other thing he thought he remembered was Gwynn's voice, calling from the distance. What was that she had said? Oh, yes… something along the lines of coming back _to her_. Some desperate plea for him not to give up…

_Not to leave her…_

He touched the bandage on his chest to discover it protected a very—_very_—tender patch of flesh, and his memory brought back the distinctive metallic flavor of the blood he had tasted.

If his fragmented recollections were anything to go by, then perhaps he had been dealt a mortal blow after all. He had been in enough battles to recognize them.

In which case… How was it that he was still alive? Potions and bandages could not bring a man back to life from a fatal injury. He knew that... and it struck him.

_He had been actually saved by magic. _

The notion was as revealing as it was liberating. Against all odds, _magic _had come to his aid when nothing else could…

_And twice, to be correct._

First with the supernatural fire, courtesy of his bride-to-be; and then with the obvious mystical healing of Wledyr and—who knew—perhaps even Merlin too.

Speaking of Merlin, it became clear as water what his mumbling servant had once said about magic. '_It's like a sword… You can wield it to defend what is good and fair in this world… or you can use it to kill innocents and just for the evil of it… In both cases it is you who is responsible for the good or bad of your actions… Your sword is just a sword_'.

His friend had been right, of course. Magic was simply magic… Neither good nor bad. And no doubt Merlin had a wealth of personal experience on the matter.

Would his father finally agree to open his mind and heart to such undeniable truth?

Although the Prince was more certain than ever of what his position towards magic would be when he reigned, there was still the bigger question about his father, and for which he had no answer.

_He needed to convince the King, whatever the cost._

He stood up, relieved to discover his limbs withstood him without swaying. While reaching up for his coat, however, a brief weakness made him grabbed onto something—a pitch of water, as it happened—which didn't provide enough support and fell noisily to the ground.

Arthur turned around afraid of having awakened the Princess, but to his relief she didn't even move. Merlin, however, heard the noise from the outside and walked promptly into the tent.

"You're up!" he cried, between surprised and worried.

"Shush, you idiot!" Arthur groaned in low voice. "You'll wake her up!"

"Oops, sorry!" Merlin shrugged his shoulders apologetically and then whispered with a scowl. "You shouldn't be up."

"I must speak with my father." Was Arthur's curtly response. "Please help me out here."

_Oh… right._

The young wizard tried to think of the best way of delivering the news, but seeing that his charge was in his typical morning mood and possibly hungry—which by experience was never good—he chose to expedite the issue.

"The King is dead, Arthur."

* * *

"How is he?"

Sir Alric's voice startled Helene a bit. She'd spent the night next to Lescaut who, after falling unconscious when she cauterized his shoulder, had not moved at all.

Blinking repeatedly to rid her eyes of somnolence, she tried a small smile. "I believe he's well. The wound on his shoulder has closed and stopped bleeding, and the one on his leg had not reopened… He's been sleeping through the night, Sir."

Sir Alric smiled, his face also speaking of tiredness but most importantly, relief and hope. "Thank you. I'm glad you've convinced him to have it tended…"

Helene swallowed a scoff and only nodded. She had not _really_ convinced Lescaut of anything. He'd been just too weak to put up a fight… and she'd been too worried to even ask for his opinion.

_Or to wait for trained healers for the treatment for that matter_, she inwardly chastised herself, but decided to deal with that guilt later.

The senior officer sat down next to his son. "You need to rest, my lady." He spoke persuasively. "I have slept for a few hours, but you have not. I urge you to use the tent over there and rest until we receive news of Camelot and our Princess."

She knew that was not necessarily a recommendation, but rather a very polite order and part of her rebelled because she wanted to stay with Lescaut.

The other part thought it better… It would be very awkward between them when the captain woke up, and she was too tired to confront that situation at the moment. Not only that, but if something happened to Arthur, her mistress would need her more than ever…

"Thank you very much, Sir Alric. I will take your offer." She smiled getting up and heading towards the tent. All of the sudden, the rustic cot inside seemed incredibly comfortable.

* * *

Arthur's reaction to the news had been nothing like Merlin could have expected. The Prince only inhaled deeply and nodded, then looked at Gwynn.

"Help me put her on the bed, Merlin… She's slept on the floor for too long."

The warlock smiled inconspicuously and wondered once again about the effect this Princess had always had in Arthur. This tender, caring side of his friend had been hidden from him for… well, always.

And yet, the wizard reckoned it was probably nothing new… It must have always been there, except that Gwynn had been the only one able to bring it out of the Prince.

They moved the tiny sleeping Princess to the bed, careful not to disturb her, though soon realizing her exhaustion was such that a horde of wild horses running next to her would probably fail to awaken her too.

Her clothes were soaked in dried blood and for a moment Arthur's brow wrinkled in concern. Merlin rushed to clarify. "It is not hers… Mostly yours… and others'." And answering the mute question in his master's eyes, he explained. "She had been helping the healers throughout the night."

Arthur acknowledged the information with a short nod and delicately covered her with the blanket. She mumbled something in her dream and master and servant held their breath fearing she might wake up. But Gwynn curled up comfortably on the cot and resumed her deep slumber.

At last something akin a soft smile graced the Prince's face, but only for an instant. When he turned to Merlin, he was solemn once more.

"Now, please tell me everything you know and remember." He calmly asked. "I must address the army and I need to have all the facts."

Merlin's eyes widened in amazement: there it was again, the _King of Albion_ he had been able to see throughout all these events… The King he would have the honor to serve.

His proud smile seemed to light up the tent. "Yes, Sire."

* * *

Thirsty and confused, Gwynn woke up and it took her a couple of long seconds to recognize the surroundings.

Oh, yes… The tent… Arthur…

_Arthur! Where was he? _

She tried to get up quickly and realized every bit of her body hurt like she had been ran over by a heavy cart… and her stomach growled loudly claiming for food.

More carefully now, she managed to sit up without getting too dizzy and tried to shut down the painful stiffness she was feeling everywhere. A rancid smell reached her nose and she discovered in dismay it was coming from her clothes. They were so bloodied it was impossible to make up the Leoness' crest anymore.

The fetid odor brought back the sensory memory of the battle at the empty Camelot camp—her first battle—and she felt her stomach revolting. Swallowing her nausea, she disposed her outer tunic with rapid movements and threw it away.

_Maybe she should burn it too…_

She chose to keep moving, though, anxious to find the Prince. When she approached the flaps of the opening, the clear voice of Arthur reached her ears and she stopped, dumbfounded.

_He was out and about! How long had she been sleeping?_

Some strange recollection jolted her memory once again, and she thought she had heard the chant "_Long live the King!"_ repeatedly in her dreams right before waking up.

Perhaps she had not been dreaming and Arthur had already taken his place as King of Camelot…

_King Arthur. The one and future King of all lands…_

Goosebumps covered her skin… The thought felt extraordinary and reassuring all the same. But she did not want to dwell on that either. King or Prince, Arthur was all right and that, _really_, was all she cared about.

Her eyes itched and she was about to rub them when noticed her hands, horribly dirty and bloodied too. There was a basin near the entrance and she swiftly washed them—along with her face—in the icy water.

The hasty cleansing made her felt a tiny bit better, though the chill in the air was already freezing her bones through her thin inner tunic.

Amidst everything that was going through her head, the notion that the unforgiving life in the battlefield was_ possibly_ _not_ a place for a woman resounded like an ironic reminder of what Ashraf had said… She felt shallow and ashamed, but had to admit the point, at least to herself.

Meanwhile, outside the tent, Arthur was addressing a circle of his most trusted knights, and had to stop mid-sentence when all the warriors stood up, squared their shoulders, and fisted their right hands over their chests in earnest reverence.

Puzzled and following their line of sight, the Prince turned around and saw Gwynn standing a couple of steps behind him. Raw male pride surged through him like a tidal wave that threatened to explode out of his chest… _His men_ were saluting _his_ future bride…

_And she had earned that honor all by herself…_

Fascinated, he moved towards her with cautious steps. The sudden and violent emotions that were coursing through his body forced him to control his actions because he knew he was liable of doing something highly inappropriate—albeit totally warranted—like kissing her senseless right then and there.

"My Princess…" He greeted.

"I did not mean to interrupt, my lord." She excused softly, acknowledging the knights' salutation with a regal nod.

"You can never do that, my lady." He took her hand. "We all owe you a lot already."

She blushed profusely yet not at his words. For the rest, Arthur might have been speaking of the aid Leoness' army lend to defeat the Saxons. But to her, his piercing eyes added another layer of deeper meaning, and he knew she understood.

Noticing her freezing hand the Prince realized she was poorly clothed, and taking his own cape, he wrapped it up around her with swift and efficient movements.

"Don't you need it?" She protested meekly, although grateful at the immediate warmth.

"I am fine." He answered gallantly. "You, however, are freezing my lady. We should get you out of this cold lest you fall ill…"

Before she could even think of an objection, Arthur had dismissed his men and was moving her inside.

Some knights exchanged amused looks of sympathy. After all, in times of war, tender moments were not only a rarity; they were a blessing…

* * *

Back in the tent, Gwynn saw her bloodied tunic in the corner also noting that was the only piece of clothing lying around. Apparently, used bandages and Arthur's own destroyed clothes had already been removed… Which got her to think again just for _how long_ she had slept.

The Prince was uncharacteristically serious and seemed not to notice anything; but the odor was once again attacking her senses and almost automatically, she lit the ruined vest on fire.

The sudden outburst of flames caught Arthur by surprise and he was ready to put it out when he realized it had been Gwynn. Arched eyebrows asked the mute question.

"It was totally ruined and it smelled terribly…" She shrugged her shoulders.

Having maintained a stern disposition for most of the day, the Prince could not help a small chuckle and shook his head.

"I guess by now I should know better than to be surprised by your antics, my lady."

The momentary distraction helped to light the atmosphere and Gwynn moved closer, observing him with attention.

After several minutes of being silently studied, the Prince lifted an amused eyebrow. "Satisfied with the examination, your highness?"

But she did not seem to find hilarity in his witticism. "Are you well, my lord?"

The question had a much deeper meaning than the words that formed it and although Arthur could not eloquently explain it, he understood it very well. He smoothed her brow with a soft caress.

"Yes I am, my Princess. You have nothing to worry."

Evidently pleased with the answer, her face finally beamed with one of her brightest smiles and he stiffened imperceptibly. The need to kiss her was so overwhelming it prickled the hair of his neck.

Yet Arthur feared his emotions were not to be trusted. Something was looming inside him and he felt edgier than ever.

And despite having life-long experience of controlling his conduct, he also knew most of it was useless when it came to Finnabair. This enthralling Princess was liable to be the catalyst that would push him beyond his tether, and the only way to avoid it was maintaining a safe distance.

Unaware of what was going through his mind, she shifted the conversation topic to what was really worrying her and asked without preamble. "I gather you know about your father, Arthur."

He had not been expecting that and his jaw clenched momentarily. He then relaxed and sighed.

"Yes."

"I am sorry." She whispered, grabbing his hands.

"Thank you." He answered kissing her fingers. "It was his time…"

The formal, almost detached answer was far from satisfying and she pressed her fingers reclaiming his attention. Her eyes were inquisitive and he reckoned he should elaborate.

To his utter surprise, the soon-to-be-King discovered that—contrary what he would have been naturally inclined—he actually wanted to do it. And even though the words felt strange in his tongue, he forced them out.

"I am sorry for the manner in which he died." He confessed with sadness. "The last thing he saw was Camelot falling… And me…"

For once, his voice quivered a bit and Gwynn thought there were tears peeking through his blue eyes. Nevertheless, none escaped.

With her heart constricted by his pain, Finnabair squeezed his hands further and the tears he did not shed found their way to her green eyes; except she did not try to stop them.

Beyond all disagreements, the Prince had lost his King. But most importantly, and beyond all differences, Arthur had lost his _father_.

His eyes followed hypnotically as one big salty drop ran down her cheek. He knew what she was doing. She had done that before, at the cliff of Caerfyrddin, when he had first discovered the truth about his father.

Now here she was again, selfishly lending her support so he could honor the memory of the man who had persecuted and slaughtered her kind. A man he had nevertheless loved throughout his life.

Unable to withstand her tears and his sorrow any longer, Arthur rested his forehead on hers and closed his eyes. Truth was, he had not had time to grieve and that stolen moment of peace and privacy, felt like a Gods-sent reprieve… Perhaps his father had had to die so the future could start soon.

Such revelation was the balm his spirit had been searching for, and he finally found closure.

_Goodbye, father. May the Gods bless your soul_.

They remained together for a while until a long sigh marked the end of his mourning, and gathering her hands, he moved her to the cot sitting next to her.

There was much to discuss and very little time. His voice was still opaque when he spoke again.

"We are not going back to Camelot just yet Gwynn." He began. "Hordes of barbarians are now running free throughout our lands, and they will raise havoc amongst our people if we don't get rid of them soon."

She nodded silently and he used his thumb to clean the teary cheeks before continuing. The small gesture made him feel better and his tone became lighter.

"We will give them chase before they can regroup, and defeat them once and for all. Only then these lands will see peace…" He paused. "And only when we have peace we can return _home_."

There was something in the way he said 'home' that deeply moved her, and Gwynn swallowed with effort through a dried throat. The Prince noticed the telltale sign of her emotional state and lost his line of thought.

Her green gaze was bright an attentive and the red of his cape settled beautifully against her pale skin. Arthur smiled softly trying with all his might no to kiss her, knowing if he did, he might not be able to stop.

Perhaps it would be safer if he distracted himself from those enslaving eyes of hers. He took off the ring of his left hand and played with it in his fingers, observing it carefully.

"This is my mother's ring. I specially care for it." He commented almost casually. "Would you keep it safe until my return?" He looked intently into her eyes. "And would you be my wife then Princess?"

Gwynn blinked repeatedly and it took Arthur a split second to recognize her mute reaction or, as it were, the lack of it. The seconds, however, became abnormally long while waiting for her answer.

Trapped in that twilight, Arthur couldn't help but to have an awful feeling of déjà vu… The only other time he had pulled out his ring, she had ran away in panic…

At least this time she stayed, he thought sarcastically, which _could be_ considered an improvement. But cynicism aside, the Prince sensed something was amiss, though he could not even fathom what.

Eventually, she spoke. "When I went through the rite of the Morrigan, I learned something that may prevent us for marrying and I want you to be aware of this obstacle before it's too late."

Other than the tightening of his jaw, the Prince did not move another muscle and kept his firm gaze fixed on hers, waiting for the explanation.

"The heiress' line is strictly matrilineal." She sighed in resignation. "And as a direct descendant of the Morrigan, I can only bear female children."

Arthur did not really understand the implications, much less which was the 'obstacle' she had mentioned. His only reaction was to frown and ask.

"But you did have a brother, didn't you…?"

"My mother", she continued softly, "was not a Morrigan's descendant per se. We are born only every other generation. But as such, we cannot bare males. None of my daughters will have powers, but my granddaughter will."

Still, the Prince—though understanding that part—failed to see the problem. He shrugged nonchalantly and tried a small smile.

"Then?"

Gwynn looked at him with a cautious expression trying to decide if Arthur was really not worried about the issue, or he was simply not comprehending the consequences.

"Then, if you marry me, you won't have a male heir to carry on your legacy."

At last the Prince understood her apprehension and a profound relief washed over him. The matter was_ truly_ of no significance for him. It had never been.

Most importantly, after learning of his father's past; his alleged disowned sister; and the hell in which Finnabair had lived because—as a woman—she could not reign by herself, the whole topic of the male legacy seemed to him like a gigantic stupidity.

He actually felt like laughing. "You really had me worried, Princess!" He joked. "Based on your reactions every time I show you this jewel, I was pressed to think you really did not like my ring."

At his words, the recollection of the fateful moment in Eleara when Arthur disclosed his identity came to Gwynn's mind. She smiled briefly—and blushed too—but looked at him serious again.

"It is not a joking matter, Arthur."

All right, it was evident to the Prince that she had given the issue a lot of thought and it was important for her; so perhaps he should go for another, more sensitive approach.

Moving closer, he grabbed her chin and remained pensive for a long moment. Eventually, his thumb move over her lips and caressed them softly, almost absentmindedly.

"Very well, if you promise me that all our daughters will be like you… then I have no objections."

There was a short pause while she processed his words; and when she smiled another one of her delicious grins, he embraced her fully against his chest and let out a long exhale of relief.

Cuddled inside his mighty hug, Gwynn too sighed in contentment, lost in the thoughts of their future family. She then asked lightheartedly, her voice muffled against the fabric.

"Even if they are stubborn like me?"

The Prince laughed heartily and she loved the way it reverberated inside his chest and against her ear. His voice sounded deeper too from her position. "Especially if they are stubborn like you…"

_Speaking of stubborn…_

Using the opportunity, Arthur decided to move into the next subject, which he feared could face some strong opposition from his… _stubborn_ future wife.

Kissing her forehead, he sat back.

"Now then. Since that's settled, we need to prepare for what's coming. The next months would be decisive."

Gwynn closed the cape tighter around her body, already missing the warmth of his arms.

"I know."

"And winter is coming…"

"I know…"

"Thus, you should go back to Leoness…"

"I know…"

Up to that point, Arthur had been preparing for a heated discussion to convince her _not _to fight, and had already open his mouth to argue when her string of acquiescent answers finally caught up with him.

"You do?" He frowned, between confused and suspicious.

_Was she planning something?_

But her demeanor was pacific and even… resigned. She simply nodded.

The Prince's frown deepened. "Are you actually agreeing with me?"

She laughed at his bewilderment. Admittedly, she might have deserved the lack of confidence.

"It is a bit unflattering for you to sound so surprised, my lord."

Arthur chuckled, frankly amused. "No offense, my lady, but words cannot begin to described how _surprised_—albeit pleasantly, I admit—I am."

He grabbed her hand observing her with pretended thoughtfulness. "I wonder, however, if I should get wounded in every battle to enjoy such mellow disposition in the future..."

It was her turn to scowl. "Arthur!" She admonished. "Do not even joke about that, my lord!"

Then, feeling an explanation was in order, she continued in meditative tone. "Truth is, I've got to think long and hard about what my new position represents, and I understand now that I should honor those who depend on me and not take unnecessary risks…"

Somehow Arthur guessed there was something else she was not telling. As insightful as he knew her to be, she was first and foremost impulsive… The concept of "_think long and hard_" was not something he would normally associate with this Princess.

His blue eyes twinkled and he once again kissed her hand to hide a smile.

"I see… Is that all?"

She knew he was baiting her, but her honesty overrode her pride. Nevertheless, she answered as flippantly as she could. "Yes, that and… Ashraf might have said a thing or two too…"

The laugh that the Prince was trying so hard contain, escaped his chest unabated and he encased her petite frame in another large embrace.

"Blessed be Ashraf, for he has achieved the impossible!."

Pushing out of his arms, her eyes narrowed evidently affronted. "That's _really_ quite unflattering Arthur and…"

In all fairness, Arthurhad been trying… He had tried very hard not to kiss her.

He had caught himself many times. And he knew he could eventually enumerate the reasons for it, as he had gone over them time and time again in his mind.

Except that at the moment, he could remember none, and crashed his lips on hers.

Her mouth was ready, and supple, and perfect… And when he felt her arms circling his neck and her hand desperately fisting his hair, he lost it… as he had known he would.

Things got rapidly out of hand. This time there was no innuendo… No indulgent building up of the passion.

It exploded around them in a blaze of love and lust that consumed them in an instant, and the dam of restrained emotions broke free.

All the pain, the angst, the sorrow were finally being exorcised by those earth-shattering kisses; while burning hands, desperate to grab, to enfold, to _feel_ were inexorably baring the relief and joy of the togetherness.

They had both fulfilled their duties to the letter. They had been proper, and dutiful, and stoic. They had pushed down personal feelings that had no place in a moment of crisis.

But when all was said and done, they were just two people in love… And there, inside that rustic tent, only they existed…

Arthur noticed they were lying on the cot only when he felt the bliss of her soft body under his. Opening his cape to uncover her was easy… And her thin tunic did not pose much of a barrier for his fingers.

Damned be the_ 'should_'… This time he _would_ take her… And just in case his resolve was not enough, the awareness that she wanted it too only helped to fan his fire.

Gwynn's response was far more fervent and demanding than anything he had experienced before… There was a mature boldness about her that drove him even more insane.

Powerless to stop the all-consuming inferno of feelings and sensations, the Prince gave in and, grabbing the collar of her tunic, he ripped the fabric open in a single pull.

The sound and his action startled them and Arthur searched for her eyes, thinking that if he discovered hesitation he would certainly die.

But there was only passion and love in the green depths… and an everlasting trust that struck his heart point-blank. And when a wicked smile curved her swollen lips, he knew there was no way back.

Grinning devilishly at her silent consent, he was already salivating to feast his eyes in what his hands had just uncovered…

Then, like in a bad dream, a noisy 'clang!' from outside brought their heated exchange to a screeching halt. Someone had obviously knocked down some armors and breastplates, and who knew what else.

"Sorry!" Merlin's voice could be heard from the distance. "Coming through… I'm bringing sustenance to the Princess."

Breathing hard, Arthur gritted between teeth. "I swear this time I _will_ kill him."

He jumped off the cot and straightened his clothes the best he could, hurrying to reach the entrance in time to intercept Merlin. He wanted to make sure Finnabair would have time to recover… and _cover_, come to think of it.

She managed to quickly arrange her ruined chemise, and using the cape, she covered herself from head to toe, just in time to answer Merlin's call.

Though the abrupt interruption had left Gwynn enraptured and shuddering, the word 'sustenance' had sounded incredibly comforting after so many hours of fasting.

"Princess? May I come in?"

"You may, Merlin." She was amazed that her voice sounded quite leveled, actually, considering her state.

The wizard stepped in and was surprised to find the Prince in there. Last he knew, Arthur had been discussing the upcoming battles with his knights.

"Oh, you are here too…" He greeted unimpressed and instead directed his attention to his favorite royal.

"I brought you supper, Princess." He smiled setting up the try. "It's not much, but it is hot."

Gwynn forced her smile to look as normal as possible, though it was quite difficult with her body trembling like a leaf. "Thank you very much, Merlin. I really don't remember the last time I've eaten."

It was then that the wizard noticed something odd in the situation. The Princess was red as the cape and, turning to Arthur, he noticed his master was flushed too…

Clueless as usual, he wondered if something had happened between the royals and kept looking from one to the other with curiosity.

The awkward moment seemed to extend for an eternity; until something in Arthur's murderous eyes told the warlock he'd better go.

Apparently something _had_ happened indeed. But by the looks of it, Merlin knew he would be forfeiting his life if he asked the Prince about it.

With barely disguised amusement, the young wizard took his leave thinking of how much fun he would have at Arthur's expense in times to come.

* * *

There were voices around him… Annoying loud voices disturbing his sleep. Why couldn't they simply shut up? Lescaut opened his eyes, frowning at the daylight.

"Welcome back, lad" was the jolly welcoming of the court physician. "Now there, drink this…"

Although parched, the captain crunched his nose with suspicion. "What is it?"

"It's just water son." His father scowled. "Drink it."

That _had not_ been a fatherly order, but rather one from a higher ranked official and Lescaut obeyed, actually discovering he had been thirstier than he had thought. After emptying the mug, he laid back down.

Sir Alric chuckled frankly amused, and addressed the chubby healer. "My son is quite interesting… He can sit still to the more gruesome treatment, but you have to tackle him down to drink a potion… His mother had always been befuddle by that…"

Groaning inwardly, Lescaut thought he had died and was in some form of hell. There was nothing that annoyed him more than his father and the old physician together, speaking of his childhood or youth years.

On second thought, there was one thing _worst_ than that: _his mother_ partaking in the conversation. He wished he could shut off his ears as he could his eyes.

Meanwhile, the physician had been carefully examining his wound and smiling in satisfaction.

"Very impressive…" He was saying. "Very impressive indeed… For a novice, this is a wonderful work."

"A novice?" Sir Alric asked. "I thought you've treated him."

"Oh, no. Last night we were very busy. He was really lucky the little lady had the guts to do what she did."

"Little lady?" Lescaut opened his eyes. He really did not remember much, except the brief conversation with Merlin and Wledyr and… Helene.

_Could that be…?_

"But yes!" The old physician kept smiling. "She treated you like an expert! Poor thing…" And he turned to Alric ignoring the knight's mute question. "She must take it after her mother, blessed her soul, very talented physician…"

"Aye." Alric assented, casually. "You are right. I've almost forgotten her mother was an excellent healer when young."

"What little lady?" Lescaut asked impatient.

"Helene, son. Who do you think we were speaking of? She was with you the entire time until I relieved her this morning."

This time the captain couldn't swallow his discouraged groan. It was just his luck…

As certain as he was that Helene would never forgive him, now he not only owed her an apology: he owed her his life too…

"He's in a sour mood…" The healer commented, still chuckling.

"That means that he's actually all right. " His father replied, grinning.

* * *

The following day each army parted its way. Camelot's chasing after the Saxons with their soon-to-be-crowned young King in the front, and Leoness' back to the Citadel with their Princess in the lead.

Having said goodbye to each other one time too many already, both royals had kept their farewells to the minimum. Despite facing yet another separation, the certainty that this was the last one had made a world of difference… And, of course, the episode in the tent had left them enough dreamy memories to keep them going during their time apart.

There were no more 'ifs' in their future. Only promising 'whens'. And so the spirits were high and the sense of hope seemed to warm the chilly winter air.

Merlin was riding next to Arthur, smiling. Soon, the future he had yearned for so long would begin…

* * *

A/N: Did you like it? The finale is coming...


	42. Author's Note

Hello!

First of all, sorry for the disappointment of not seeing the last chapter here.

But I thought I'd drop a line to wish everyone (particularly my dear and loyal readers/reviewers/friends) a **wonderful Holiday Season **and a** very happy New Year**!

2012 has been particularly challenging for me on several fronts (nothing major, just life I guess) and so I'm glad is winding down.

I also wanted to let you know that I haven't abandoned the story!  
Not by a long shot.

Actually, the last chapter is almost done. Mostly in bytes, last pieces in my head.  
Just need to adjust it to my final liking, but I'm also having a hard time saying goodbye to the characters.

Can there be separation anxiety with fictional people?  
I think I've developed quite an attachment to the royal couple and their friends… Who would have thought?

Anyway, **I will finish this story**; and hopefully sooner rather than later.

Thus, don't give up on it... or on me just yet.

Be safe and joyful in this Holiday Season and I'll look forward to hearing from you whenever you can.

Yours truly,

_VeryShy_


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